Midnight or Later
by brneyedgrrl
Summary: It's a Jake and Bella story with a little twist. What would happen if they were both in unsatisfying, miserable relationships and wanted to be with each other - but couldn't? Would there be any way they could DEAL with that? Hope you like my take on this version of the Jake/Bella relationship, rated M for language and lemons.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: HI! Just a few things you might want to know before reading this one. It's quite different from my last story in the following ways: First - it's pretty angsty; second - the timeline is a little different in that Bella and Jacob are the same age, they met a year earlier than in the books (while they were both sophomores), and this story takes place after they have both graduated from high school; and third - Bella and Edward don't (and won't ever) have Renesmee. That being said, let's check in with our hero now. It's an early April evening and everyone at the Black house is _supposed_ to be asleep.**

**Midnight or Later**

The phone vibrates rudely, disturbing the relative peace of the night. I'm awake, listening to her breathe evenly and softly by my side. Trying to move without disturbing her, I extract myself from the bed and pad over to the dresser, picking up my phone and closing the door quietly behind me. I go to the kitchen. No one will hear me talk there.

"Hey," I say without inflection. "Why you calling so late?"

All I hear on the other end is sniffling.

"What's the matter, babe?" I ask, concerned. She's crying. After all this time, after all that water under the bridge, it still digs a knife in me to hear that.

"Is _she_ there?" she asks, her voice thick.

I close my eyes and sigh. It's going to be one of_ those_ calls. But they're all one of those calls.

"She's here. She's asleep, though. She can't hear me."

"Are you_ sure_?" she asks.

"I'm in the kitchen. She's in the bedroom," I tell her.

"Go outside," she urges.

I roll my eyes, though I'm not doing it for anyone's benefit but mine. "Okay," I agree. I go out to the yard.

As I walk out the door, she says, "I just don't want her to hear you."

"I know, I know," I say. I wander over to the shed. "Okay, I'm outside and away from the house. What's up?"

The sniffling starts again. "I miss you," she says, her voice breaking. "I had a dream about us..."

Not this again! I can't take it. Doesn't she know how hard this is for me? I can't listen to this every other night. I don't say a word, though. I just listen. Like my life depends on it.

"And we were...happy, and...laughing. It was just like that time at the quarry. Remember?"

Remember? It's one of my favorite days to think about. Her, in that little pink bikini, jumping off the sheer sides of the quarry into my waiting arms. The quarry had been abandoned decades before, after it filled with water. There are 'No Swimming' signs everywhere, but groups of kids always swim anyway. It's like a private beach. We're surrounded by the walls of the quarry, down in the valley of it, our laughs echoing all around us. The screams of the girls are deafening as they soar off the cliffs.

She'd jumped off one of the shorter landings, one that was close to the water's surface - maybe fifteen or twenty feet up. She screamed as she fell through the air, but I'd known it wasn't from fear - it was sheer exhilaration. Then she hit the water, not ten feet from me, and as I went to grab her, my hand closed over one of her soft, perky boobs. Her top was floating next to me, the little strings trailing in the water. I'd pulled her up, clutching her against my chest so no one else would see her. I knew she'd be beside herself with embarrassment, so I snatched the pink top out of the water and shoved it into her hand.

She'd looked up at me with this look of incredible gratitude and her eyes just said love. Like, almost out loud. Something passed between us, and after that moment, she and I were inseparable. Not that we hadn't been before that, but now it was for real.

"Yeah," I answer shortly. I don't want to encourage her. God knows I'm not over her yet. And she obviously isn't over me either.

My terse tone startles her. She's blatant in her attempt to hide her tears now. "Um...so I just wanted to call and see how you were doing," she says lamely.

Now I feel bad. And like the sucker I am, I try to comfort her. "Yeah, I remember it, babe," I say huskily. "How could I forget?"

We were both quiet for a few minutes. I can tell she's trying to rein in her emotions, hiccuping the cries back.

"Why did we break up again?" she asks, fake laughter in her voice.

"I know, right?" I say, forcing a laugh too. "But yeah, I'm doing good," I continue after a minute of silence, answering her question with a lie. "How've you been?"

There was a pause. "Okay," she finally says.

I don't want to touch that with a ten foot pole, but I hear myself blurt, "Just okay?"

"I miss you," she whispers.

"Sweetheart, we've been over this," I say, exasperated. Another pause. "Where is _he_?" I finally ask.

"Out of town. He went hunting," she answers instantly.

Uh huh. Of course.

"Look, babe, I can't talk any more," I say, pretending urgency. I want her to think that I'm about to get caught. I want her to_ want_ to hang up, because if she wants to, I'm thinking it won't hurt as much to say goodbye.

"Okay," she says reluctantly. "Take care. Keep in touch."

"Yep," I answer. I realize then that just because she wants to hang up, it doesn't hurt any less to say goodbye to her. I push the 'End' button fast, before I can change my mind or hear her say anything else.

Fuck.

I go back inside, trying hard to be quiet. I don't need any questions now. I'm back in my room quick, lifting the covers to slide in next to her. She turns to me, drowsy and sweet.

"Hey, baby," she says sleepily. She reaches out for me, pulling me into her warmth. "Whatcha doin'?"

I know from experience that she probably won't remember this tomorrow. I snuggle into her neck, looking for comfort, and say, "I had to get up for a sec. Sorry I woke you." I kiss her ear.

"'S'okay," she breathes, and she's back to sleep. I smile. She really is adorable. I wonder for the umpteenth time why I can't bring myself to love her.

I lay awake for the rest of the night. Thinking.

I think about the day at the quarry. And the subsequent days, before he showed his stupid face again. Before my life essentially ended. Before...before That Day.

Ugh, That Day. I still feel sick thinking about it. I mean, literally sick to my stomach. I want to puke.

I don't think I'll ever get it out of my head, though. I can still feel the fury, the blinding rage that had caused me to literally see red. Up until That Day, I'd thought that was just an expression. Let me assure you, it's not. It's very real. Red rage that washes over my vision before I explode. And that exploding thing? Yeah, that's not figurative either. At least not for me.

I can feel myself getting pissed off just thinking about it, so I try to redirect my thoughts. I think instead about the girl at my side - how nice she is, genuinely nice. How pretty she is. How sexy. How really, truly lovable she is. So why can't I love her?

I mean, she's beautiful. Much prettier than...well, you know. She has this incredible blond hair that is thick and soft and flows down her back like a yellow river. She has eyes of turquoise, big blue eyes like you see on movie stars. Full, pink, pouty lips. She's got a body that refuses to quit. Gorgeous melons, long silky legs, a perfect, heart-shaped ass designed to make a grown man cry. And she's so nice, it's almost criminal. Yet here I lay, next to her, thinking about someone else. What the hell is wrong with me?

I think about the day I met my beautiful blond bed-mate. It was at least two months after That Day - and I was still a shell. But she kept on trying, kept on pushing to get in. I still don't know what she saw in me that day, or what she sees in me now. Because to be honest? I'm still a shell.

But when we met, she was persistent. She came up to me at First Beach, looking like a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition cover model, and she said, "You look sad. How can a guy who looks like you be sad on a beautiful day like today?" That was her opening line. I couldn't even answer her, because I was pouty and gloomy and my mood sucked. I snorted in her direction. Anyone else would've gotten up and left, but not her. She stayed there, coaxing me to talk, plying me with smiles and copious amounts of beer from a cooler she was carrying, until I was pretty much a wreck. Then she escorted me home, helped me to bed, and began the kind of therapy she thought I needed. It helped a little, but not enough.

And that was the beginning of our 'relationship' if you want to call it that. She calls it that, but I don't consider what I have with her a 'relationship.' I think of it more like a convenience. A booty call. Granted, it's been a long booty call - she hasn't left my side for six months. But I think the last actual relationship I had was the_ last_ relationship I'll ever have.

It's comforting, I'll give her that. I like her, too. She's nice, like I said. Very sweet. She's a tiger in bed - she's three years older than me, so that might be a part of it. And we get along pretty well. I just need her to be...well, if I'm honest, I need her to be someone else.

The intermittent phone calls don't help one single bit. These middle-of-the-night shouts out for help and reassurance are like a baseball bat to the head. And the thing is, what is she doing it for? She doesn't want me; she made that perfectly clear. So what's with this bullshit 'I miss you' stuff?

But I can't bring myself to stop her, I can't block her number - she's like a drug to me. It's like I need her, even though she treats me like a doormat. All I really want in life is for her and me to be together. And that's impossible, so that's what I mean when I say my life is ended - over - done.

My companion is starting to stir. She stretches her long, creamy limbs and sighs sexily. "Hey, hot thing," she coos. "Whacha got planned for us today?"

I look over at this vision in my bed. This is something she asks on an almost daily basis. Mainly our days consist of a shower together, going off our separate ways to work and then her cooking me some kind of gourmet meal for dinner, followed by a night of mind blowing sex. Seriously, it's a daily occurrence. She can't get enough of me.

I feel guilty, looking at her happy face. She loves me; I know it. I can tell by the way she treats me, by the way she talks to me. She wants me to love her. Sometimes I catch her, a desolate look on her face, as if she's about to cry. I've never actually seen her cry, but she has come close a few times.

Most recently was only a couple of weeks ago. She told me that she loved me, and my answer of, "I know," wasn't what she expected or wanted. She turned away, her face changing to one of concentration. I'm assuming she was concentrating on keeping the tears back. Of course I ignored it, like the asshole I am - changing the subject to something trivial.

She doesn't know about my heartache, and I don't want her to. Knowing her, she'll try to 'fix' it. The last thing I need is someone else thinking about it all day. It's bad enough that I have to.

I'm feeling lonely and empty this morning after my midnight call, and I know what will make me feel a little better, make me forget for a few minutes. She'll be up for it, too - she always is. But it's gotten to the point where I'm starting to feel a little guilty afterward. She's doing it because she loves me, but I'm doing it for a physical release - and I'm pretending it's someone else in my mind the entire time. How fucked up is that?

I'm brought back to the present by her tongue on the side of my neck. But I don't think I can do it now. I pull away abruptly, saying, "Not today, hon. I'm already late." It's a lie and she knows it, but she lets it go. She knows there's something up, and she's learned not to push me when I'm in this kind of mood.

"Okay," she answers, hopping out of bed. Her ass sways enticingly as she sashays away from me toward the bathroom. She always sleeps buck naked. I'm a little more modest - I'm wearing a pair of boxers. I follow her. A hot shower with her is something I never want to give up - though I know I'll have to someday. She welcomes me into the bathroom with a smile, pulling open the shower curtain invitingly. The water is hot and steamy, the pressure just right, and her soft hands on my back, soaping me up, feel amazing. I let go. It feels great to think about something - someone - else for a change.

She turns me around and kisses me urgently, sucking me in like her life depends on it. And I can't help it - I'm a man, right? I kiss her right back, letting myself feel her body pressed against mine, warm and wet and hungry. It only takes a few minutes until she gets what she wants. I grab her by the thighs and slide her up until she's right where she needs to be, and she settles herself down onto my raging boner with a sigh of content. It's all over a few pumps later, because I don't have the energy to bother holding off. But she's able to finish as well, and we've just performed the definition of a quickie. As I lower her back to the porcelain floor of the tub, she lets out a little laugh. "Thanks, baby. I know you weren't in the mood."

"Yep," I answer, both acknowledging her thanks and agreeing with her. I finish my shower, feeling a tiny bit better, and try not to think of why I was feeling bad in the first place.

She gets out of the shower and wraps her fantastic bod in a towel, then turns to me. "Everything okay?" she asks, concerned.

I want to lash out at her. Can't she just leave it alone? I know she's trying to help, but seriously? Haven't I made it abundantly clear over the months that I don't want to 'talk about it?' I don't lose it with her though. I know she means well. Instead, I decide to go ahead tell her what's up. Maybe that will stop her from asking in the future.

"Got a phone call last night," I said.

She isn't aware of my obsession or of my past. I've told her nothing so far. So she reacts like anyone would. "From who?" she asks warily.

"My ex."

"Oh." There's a long pause while she rubs the towel around in her hair, trying hard to be nonchalant. "Your ex? Should I be worried?" She tries a smile and it breaks my heart. The amount of effort she's putting in to be casual is agonizing to me.

I look down at the tile floor, not returning her smile or reacting in any way. "Yeah," I say shortly, still looking down. I push past her to the hallway and go to my room to get dressed for work.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi guys. So I'm not exactly feeling the same love with this story as with my last one - but I expected that. Yes, Jake is being a complete and total jerk to the nice girl who loves him, but we all know why that is. I guess I could have made Shea a different kind of person, but that wouldn't illustrate what I'm getting at as well as the character does now. So sorry if I offend you with my mean Jake. Maybe if you stay tuned, you'll see some redeeming qualities. **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed and favorited and followed this story! I love to hear what you guys think. Lastly, anything you recognize isn't mine. And here's Chapter 2!**

Chapter 2

Like I knew she would, she follows me down the hall. But she doesn't say a word. I don't know if it's because she's shocked, upset, or just gathering strength for the upcoming shitstorm. I don't say anything either. She drags open a drawer in my old dresser, pulling out a pair of panties and a bra. She hardly ever goes home now, so I was forced to give her half my drawers and part of my closet. She slams the drawer shut and turns to me. There's something I recognize in her expression, something I haven't seen on her face before. Fury.

"What the fuck, Jake?" she demands.

My expression doesn't change. I shrug at her. I don't know what to say.

"Seriously?" she screeches. "You're just going to stand there and shrug? Tell me what's going on!"

I sigh. She's losing it. Now I regret opening the can of worms, but I did it so I have to deal with it. "Whaddya wanna know?" I ask, going about the business of getting dressed like this discussion means nothing to me. To be honest, it doesn't.

"Who is this ex?" she asks insistently.

I sigh theatrically. "A girl," I say, like the asshole I am.

"Yeah, I figured that part out all by myself. You've never mentioned her."

"I don't really want to talk about her," I say.

"Then you shouldn't have brought her up," she says, pouty now.

"You're right. Sorry," I say, though I'm not.

"You're not getting off that easy," she argues. "You _did_ bring it up, so now we have to talk about it. You say I have something to worry about, huh? What is it? Is there a chance you'll get back together with her? And if you guys are broken up, why is she still calling you? Drunk dialing?"

"No, she doesn't drink. At least she didn't when I knew her. And no. There's no chance of us getting back together."

This shuts her up for a second. "There's not? So wh...what's the deal then?"

"I still love her, Shea. I'm sorry. I probably should've told you before."

Shea sits down on the bed in her underwear. She rests her elbows on her knees and puts her face in her hands. I'm afraid she's going to start to cry, and I don't think I can handle it. Jesus, _please_ don't start that!

"Okay, so this is the big mystery that is you, huh?" she says, looking up at me with those incredible eyes. "You're lovesick."

I'm digging through the closet for a flannel to go with my greasy jeans and dago t. "Is that what it's called?" I ask.

"Yeah," she answers snippily. I don't blame her. I shouldn't've dropped this on her. She doesn't deserve it.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I probably should've left it alone and not said anything," I say.

"No. I _want_ to know these things, Jake. I _need_ to know." I'm sure she's thinking that we can't have a relationship if I'm all closed off. But like I said, I don't really consider this a relationship. I just look at her.

She looks upset and that makes me feel guilty. I don't like feeling guilty, so I look away. She gets up and comes over to me. She puts her arms up around my neck and straightens the collar of the flannel shirt I've put on. "Come on, Jake. Look, it's Friday. Let's go out for a nice dinner tonight. We can talk. My treat."

I still don't look at her. I stare off to the side, my eyes narrowed. She reaches up to kiss my cheek, my chin, my lower lip. "Please?" she begs.

"Yeah, okay," I say. It's easier than fighting with her.

She lets herself smile at me, but I turn away. I need coffee and to get the hell out of here. I pour myself a travel mug full of black brew and go out to my truck, gunning the engine as I pull away. Her little Miata sits in front of my shack, looking like a princess on a hog farm. I don't look back.

I'm early for work, like I knew I would be. That's okay, I like the solitude. I go in the office and fire up my computer, checking emails and the schedule for today. I've got a few answers in my inbox about parts that I've ordered. I read them briefly, making notes on the desk calendar to call this or that customer back. I listen to the voicemails. I look at what's on the agenda for today. I sip my coffee. I do all this like a robot. God damn, I really wish she hadn't called last night.

I think back to the last time she did this. It wasn't that long ago, actually, only a couple of weeks. It had taken me several days to recover - even though I wouldn't call it 'recovery' exactly. I mean, full recovery would entail being free of her, wouldn't it? And I don't see that happening anytime soon - if ever. Why does she do this? Can't she control herself? I want to call her every minute of every day, but somehow _I_ find a way to hold off! Why can't she? It's rude, that's what it is - now my thoughts will be consumed with her for a week. It isn't fair - to Shea, to me, even to _her_ guy...

God, I hate that motherfucker. He's the guy I'd kill if I thought I could get away with it. I wonder what he'd think if he knew who she was calling in the middle of the night. Maybe I'll tell him, I think for the eight-hundredth time. Get him pissed at her. Make him dump her again.

If I thought it would work, believe me I'd do it in a New York second. I'm pretty sure he'd forgive her though. I don't think he's really the jealous type. He seems pretty sure of himself, cocky son of a bitch. Besides...I don't want her to be sad. I've seen her without him and it's not a pretty sight. What I want is for her to be with me and be _content_ with me - for her to _want_ to be with me. I know better. That ain't happening.

Still...it sure is tempting. I can get a message to him; I've done it before. Tell him that when he's off hunting with his brothers, she's pining, calling me left and right. If she were mine, that would piss me off no end.

I'm torn out of my thoughts by a bang. The door to the office flies open and my boss, Sam, strides in. Sam and I go way back, since long before we worked together. He knows all about my obsession. He doesn't approve.

"You look like shit," he comments. "Were you up all night or something?"

I shake my head, shrugging. I refuse to take my eyes off my computer screen.

He stops shuffling through the mail and I feel his gaze on me. Without turning, I say, "What?"

"She called again last night, didn't she?" he asks.

"Yep." Why hide it?

"Fuckin bitch," he comments mildly. I'm out of my chair and he's up against the wall, my fist twisting his collar and pushing into his throat, before he can blink. There's no reaction from him, no surprise at all. "Calm down, Jake," he says. "Don't do something stupid, like make me fire you."

I snort as I back away. He watches me warily as I try to calm myself. Losing it now would not be a good option. Sam moves to sit in his desk chair. He leans back, putting his feet on the desk.

"How's Shea?" he asks casually. Okay, I really want to pop him one. He's just baiting me now.

"Doing great," I spit, leaving the office and heading for the shop. "Let me know when the deliveries come in," I toss over my shoulder.

As I stomp away, lost in my rage, I realize that there's no way I can do anything delicate right now. I'm supposed to work on a Mercedes air intake valve. With the mood I'm in, I'll crush the damn thing if I touch it. I toss my flannel over the open hood of the Mercedes and saunter out the overhead door.

I start walking in no particular direction. After I'm about a block or so away from the shop, I undress and put my clothes under a fallen trunk that's just a little off the forest floor. That'll keep them relatively dry if it starts to rain, which is a daily if not hourly occurrence here. I shake down, falling on all fours and letting a growl rip from my throat. It feels good to let the wolf take over. I don't have to think about anything but my animalistic desires in this form. I start running.

Yeah, it's pretty fucked up. I can turn into a wolf. It's a long story - I won't bore you with the details.

So I'm running now, and I'm the king of the neighborhood.

My senses tune in. There's a squirrel on the other side of that log, cowering as it hears my approach. There's a family of rabbits in their den at the bottom of that tree. They're staying in for now, now that the big wolf is in the area. A large elk is lapping water from the nearby creek. I hear him lift his head to listen, droplets of water dripping from his mouth.

I can sense everything in this form. I hear the rabbits taking off through the underbrush. I see the flash of a red fox tail disappearing around a bend in the path. I can taste the bitter, metallic flavor of fear in the air. They know I'm in a bad mood and they're getting out of my way. See? Why can't everyone be like the animals? I'm pissed, so stay off my path. Why try to draw me out like Shea or bait me like Sam? Leave me the fuck alone.

I feel better after I run for about an hour. I know Sam will be cool with this, despite our little altercation today. If he isn't, I'll stay late - but he understands. He has his own issues - he needs me to cut him some slack from time to time. I go back to the tree where I left my clothes and shiver back into my human self. Yeah, I needed that. I feel a lot better. I get dressed and walk back to the shop.

Sam's waiting for me, and a few of the other guys are there as well. Crazy thing - we can all turn into wolves. It's kind of a native American legacy we all got saddled with. We're pretty close, me and the other eight guys - and one girl - this happens to; not that we wouldn't be otherwise, because of our ages and social situations, but these people are like my family. They understand.

Paul, the most volatile of all of us, has his head buried under the hood of the Mercedes I was supposed to fix. He cranes his neck around the hood of the car, but when he sees my expression he ducks back. He's smart - not gonna mess with me today.

"You feel better?" Sam asks as I pass him.

"Yeah, thanks," I say shortly. "Sorry about before."

"No problem," Sam answers. He points to a classic T-Bird parked just outside the shop. "There's your next project. Should keep you busy for awhile."

Ahh, yes. Sam know me well. Something like this is a labor of love for me, because I'm addicted to the classics. This will keep my mind busy for a long time.

"What's wrong with it?" I ask him, the first real smile of the day spreading over my face.

"Total rebuild," Sam answers, and tosses me the keys as he walks away.

"Awesome," I mumble under my breath as I stride out to the waiting vehicle.

I spend the better part of the day meticulously pulling the engine apart. The thing is in original condition, so there's grease and dirt in every crevice. I'm covered with the stuff by closing time.

After wiping off as much as I can with a rag, I grab my flannel from a hook in the shop and shrug it on. Driving home, I think again about Shea and her questions. Things are going to get ugly tonight, I just know it.

I pull up in front of the house and she's there waiting. I shower for the second time today - alone this time - and dress for dinner. I wear a pair of black jeans end a cobalt blue button down shirt, because in don't want to start anything with Shea yet. I know if I dress sloppy, she'll start in before we ever get to the restaurant. She smiles at me tentatively as she drives her little sports car to the restaurant. I pretend I don't see her.

She's made reservations at a fancy Italian place in nearby Port Angeles. I know of it only through my ex, who's been there before. I'm surprised by how much that bothers me.

Shea starts in immediately, before we even order drinks. "So tell me about this ex," she says as an opener. "How long did you guys go out?"

And this is the problem, right here. We were never actually going out. I just love her. I loved her since the day I saw her on First Beach two years ago. But she'd always loved someone else. I decide to come clean to Shea.

"We were never really going out," I admit. "But I love her. I always did and I probably always will."

The waitress comes to take our drink orders as Shea digests this. When she leaved, Shea cocks her head to the side, a confused expression on her face. You loved her, but you were never going out?" she asks. I shake my head slowly, looking steadily at her. "Then why would I have a reason to be worried?"

She's not getting it at all. "You have a reason to be worried," I begin patiently, "because I won't get over her. I can't have her, but I'll always want her. There's no way around it."

The waitress brings our drinks and Shea sits there, dumbfounded while I go ahead and order for both of us. She doesn't seem up to it.

"If you were never actually dating," Shea asks testily after a few minutes of silence. "Why do you call her your ex?"

That is a really good question. I don't know how to answer it. I think for a second. "What else would I call her?" I ask.

Shea gets a look on her face I don't recognize. Her eyes narrow as she tilts her head to the side. "Local bitch? Neighborhood tramp?" she asks sarcastically.

Shea doesn't know it, but I put Sam against a wall for saying something like this not ten hours ago. My mind isn't equipped to handle anyone maligning that woman, no matter what she's done to me. I can feel my face change and my chest burn. I realize we're in public, but in spite of that a sneer curls my lip as I lean in to her, pointing a finger in her face. "Don't you _ever_ fuckin say anything like that to me about her again, do you understand? You don't even _know_ her."

Shea jerks back as if I've slapped her. Her eyes fill with tears, but I don't feel an ounce of sympathy for her. Neighboring tables are now staring, and I'm finished with the 'nice dinner.' "I'm outta here," I mutter, standing.

"Jake, wait!" she says, calling further attention to herself as she tries in vain to stop the tears from falling. I turn back only because so many people are now watching us. Our waitress is at the hostess stand looking petrified, and the manager stands warily off to the side, his eyes trained on me. I just look back to Shea without a word. I know my eyes are livid with fury. "Don't go. Please. I'm sorry," she chokes.

I stand there a second, considering, and then I do sit down. I'm dressed too nice to run home as the wolf, but there's no way I'm riding home with her. I text one of my co-workers, one of my wolf pack members - Seth. He'll pick me up, but it'll take him at least an hour to get here. He answers right away - "_On my way, bro."_

Shea and I eat in silence. A few times she tries to talk about something trivial, but I just stare at her. Finally she gets the point, but then she tries this: "Jake, I think if we talk about this, we can work it out. I love you. I know you don't love me yet, but I seriously want to try. Will you do that with me?"

The words 'bitch' and 'tramp' are still swirling in my head, so no - that's not going to be an option for us. I know I won't ever see her in the same light now. And thankfully, my phone picks that moment to vibrate. I glance at it - a text from Seth. "_Right outside, man_," it says. I stand, throw a few twenties on the table and turn away. I can hear her little sobs as I push the door open and step out into the night.

"Thanks," I say to Seth as I settle myself in the passenger's seat of his little car. He gives me a look - and I know what it means. "What?" I ask belligerently.

Seth is two years younger than me. He's only seventeen and still in school. But I respect him the same as I respect all the other wolves. He's the youngest of us - the baby - and we're all protective of him, though he doesn't really need it.

"You were there with Shea, right?" he asks. I nod, shrugging. "So you left her there?"

"She has her car," I say.

"You guys break up?"

"Looks like it, doesn't it?" I feel kinda bad for being a smartass to Seth - he's one of the nicest guys I know - but I'm in no mood for a heart to heart, as Shea found out the hard way.

Seth shakes his head. "You ever gonna get over her, man?" he asks sadly. I know he isn't referring to Shea.

"No," I answer.

"Seriously, dude," he starts, but I cut him off.

"No, _seriously, dude_," I mock him sarcastically. "Just let it go. I already know everything you're gonna say. Sorry. It's been a bad day."

"Okay," he shrugs. We drive the rest of the way in silence. When we get to my place, he drops me off with a sigh. "You know I'm here if you need anything," he says.

"I know - that's why I called you. Thanks for the lift." I glance back at him with an apologetic shrug. "Sorry I'm such an asshole."

He laughs, and I know I'm forgiven. I get out, pissed off as I can be, thinking about her and that damn phone call.

I reach in my pocket and grab my cell phone. I want to call her and chew her out - yell at her for putting me through this. Not only did she ruin my day, make me break up with my somewhat-girlfriend and cause a fight between me and not one but two of my friends, but she deprived me of sleep last night too. I'm tired and crabby on top of the bitterness I feel. The whole thing sucks, and I'm getting mad about it.

I look at my phone and scroll through my contacts, trying to find her name. Where the fuck is she? S...S...S - I look through all my S's and she isn't there. She's not in the B's either. What the...?

And then it hits me like a bullet in the brain. She's under the C's now.

Bella Cullen.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Yep, here's Chapter 3. In case you haven't noticed, I'm updating every week on Sunday. I have nothing else to say, except thanks to anyone who has reviewed and to all of those who have followed/favorited me or my story. Love you.**

**Nothing you recognize is mine - but anything you don't is.**

Chapter 3

I throw the phone across the yard into the woods and hear it hit a tree. Fuck! Why does it always hit me like that - like a ton of bricks coming down on my head? Why can't I get it through my thick skull that she _married _that motherfucker?

Sighing and shaking my head at my own stupidity, I go into the tree line and retrieve my phone. Despite the airborne trip across the yard and the crash into the trunk of the tree, it's still working. I brush off the dead leaves and other detritus it's accumulated from its few minutes on the forest floor. It still says her name, the contact lighting up like a neon sign that says, 'You're a loser, Jake.' I press the mobile button and the phone calls her.

She answers immediately. "Jake?" she says anxiously.

"Yeah, it's me," I say listlessly. I'm still pissed, but now I don't know if I can tell her about it. When I hear her voice, I melt.

"Is everything okay?" Her voice is high and worried. I glance at my watch - it's not that late. I wonder why she seems so upset.

"Yeah, fine. Why?" I ask despite my resolve not to.

"I heard...something," she says evasively.

"What did you hear?" I ask, suddenly on alert.

"Um...were you just in Port Angeles?" she asks tentatively.

"Yeah?" I say. Shit.

"Angela and Ben saw you," she says, referring to two of her high school friends.

"So?" Now I'm belligerent. It pisses me off that these two people who I barely know are talking about me to her.

"So they say you left. And that you left your girlfriend there," she supplies.

"She's not my girlfriend," I say automatically.

"Did you break up?" she asks, her voice sympathetic. "Was it because of last night?"

"You could say that," I tell her, my tone nasty now.

Her voice drops to a whisper. "Did she catch you?" she asks.

"No. I broke up with her for a lot of reasons."

"You broke up with her?" she asks.

"Why does that seem so surprising to you?" I ask, my words clipped. What does she care? See, this is just what I'm talking about. She's supposed to be married, for Chrissake. She's not supposed to care about me this much. This is what I find so confusing. So I decide to tell it like it is. "Yeah, I broke up with her. After I stayed awake all night last night, I fucked her this morning to try to make myself feel better, but it didn't work. So I went to work and got in a fight with Sam, came home and went to dinner, broke up with her at the restaurant, and bummed a ride home from Seth, who I also got into a fight with. Too bad I didn't know your little spies were there - I could've saved Seth some gas. Is that what you want to hear?" I spit the whole speech out viciously, trying to hurt her like she's hurt me. I succeed.

I could hear a choking sound on the other end of the phone. Of course, true to form, I feel like a shit for telling it like it is, and I sigh and ask in a much gentler tone, "Are you all alone there?"

"Yes," she says in a small voice.

"I"m sorry, Bells, but god..." I stare up at the sky and groan. "You can't keep on calling me and saying things like you miss me, or why did we break up. That's seriously fucked up and I can't take it anymore. You're married. Jesus, where's your husband when you're doing this? Doesn't that seem just a little off to you?"

"Yes," she says again. "But I can't help it. I think about you all the time. I miss you. And it's not just...your friendship I miss, either."

I know what she means. She misses the long, slow, hot nights of lovemaking that we did all that summer before that cocksucker came back and ruined everything. She misses lying in my warm bed, wrapped in my warm arms, listening to my heartbeat. Because there's nothing hot about the guy she's in bed with now. His arms are icicles. His heart doesn't beat. And they refuse to change her into one of them - thank goodness, because there's no way I could handle that. So she sleeps alone, because he doesn't sleep - and she shivers by herself in that big house while they go out and do what the filthy scum have to do to survive. Drink blood.

"You made your choice, honey," I say gently. I know it isn't a kind thing to say, but I want her to know that this was her option, and she's the one who picked it. I try to say it as nicely as I can, my tone just as sweet as I can make it.

"I know," she says, her voice catching. "I thought at the time that it was the right choice for me. I didn't think it would be like this."

I chuckle unwillingly. "Really? What did you think then? How did you think it would be?"

"I thought I could convince him to change me. But now I see that he won't. And I don't even think I'd let him now if he did want to, because I see what this life is like. It's...I don't know, Jake. It seems like a great idea, living forever. But what the hell are you supposed to _do_ all the time? Keep on going to high school? Wait around for everyone I know to get old and die? Fight my nature on a daily basis, wanting to kill my friends so I can satisfy my thirst? I mean, I get it now. I know why he doesn't want to change me. So here I am. And there you are. And we can't be together because I'm married. And...and it sucks."

"Yeah, it sucks alright," I say in agreement. "But it's done. It can't be undone. That's all there is to it." I hesitate for a second, and a little flicker of hope starts in me. To quash it, I ask, "Don't you love him anymore?"

"Of course I do!" she answers readily, her voice indignant. "But – well, it's just not the same as it is with you. And I didn't realize how important that was going to be to me but now...," she trails off uncertainly. "I don't know...I can't feel as close to him as I'd like to - I guess that's it."

I hold back a chuckle. She's basically saying she wants me. That I'm a better lay than he is. I briefly entertain the idea of telling her to try a few sex toys. I could point her in the right direction. But it's only a momentary thought. She's not in the mood for jokes tonight.

"Okay, yeah, I get that," I say, and my voice comes out low and gravelly. I didn't realize it, but just thinking about her wanting me - and the idea of sex toys being used by her - has given me the beginnings of a boner. I readjust myself, glad that I'm in the dark of the woods and that my dad isn't home to see me. "But you're in it for life, Bells. You took a vow. Like I said, it can't be undone."

"Why not, Jake?" she asks, suddenly intense. "You've heard of divorce, haven't you?"

I huff a humorless laugh. "You think the Cullens will let you divorce one of them? Come on, Bella. Think."

"People get divorced every day, Jacob," she says, sounding like her own self for one second.

"Yeah, people do. Bloodsucking leeches, not so much."

She's silent. And in the silence, I hear the purr of an expensive engine coming around the bend. I look up from my position in the trees and see the little red Miata pull up in front of my place. Shea stays in the driver's seat, staring at the house. I can see that she's not sure if anyone is home - she knows for sure that my dad, Billy, isn't here. He left right after Christmas to try to improve his health in the sunny islands of Hawaii. He's living with my sister and her husband until further notice. So Shea knows he's not here, but I can see she's indecisive. She takes out her phone and the screen lights up her face as she looks at it. She texts someone, and a second later, I know the someone is me.

'R u home?' she asks.

"Look, Bells. I have to go, okay? I...have plans tonight. Keep the doors locked over there, willya? He might not care if someone comes in there and attacks you, but I do." I can't resist putting in the dig.

"Thanks for calling, Jake. Maybe..."

I cut her off. "No maybes. Good luck, babe." I hang up.

I feel just a tiny bit better knowing she is almost as miserable as I am. Misery loves company, as they say. I text Shea. 'Yeah,' is all I say.

'Can we talk?'

'Ok,' I answer.

I amble over to her car, open the passenger side door, and get in. I definitely don't want her coming in the house, because I know if she does we'll end up in bed. If she's surprised that I was already outside and close to her car, she doesn't show it. Instead she puts her hand on my knee and apologizes.

"I'm so sorry, Jake," she starts. "I should've known not to...anyway, what I said was inexcusable. You're right, I don't know her."

I'm not giving an inch. "No, you don't," I agree with a shitty tone.

"I know. And like I said, I'm sorry. Tell me about her. What happened with you two?" She being very conciliatory, extremely humble, and she's back to the nicest girl I've ever met. But I don't budge.

And I can't really tell her _everything_. I can't say that this guy Bella's married to is a vampire, and a vampire that supposedly doesn't feed from humans to boot. I can't say that I'm a shapeshifter, that I can turn into a wolf at will. I can't say what I really think: that this bloodsucker has a hold over my girl, and that it's a supernatural thing that she, as a mere human, can't escape.

But I can tell her some things. I stare out the windshield and start my story.

"We met back when we were sophomores. I mean, she's been a friend of the family since before I was born - my dad and hers used to hang out in high school. But I hadn't seen her in years - her parents are divorced and she came here from Phoenix to live with her dad after her mom remarried. Anyway, I think I fell in love with her that first time I saw her. At least I was infatuated at that point. I didn't think of anyone but her for months. But she met this guy from Forks, where her dad lives, and she fell in love with him. He's not good for her; no doubt about that, but who falls for anyone who's right for them?" I look over at Shea with a sarcastic shrug. She's staring at me, fascinated, hanging on my every word. "Anyway, something happened between them, and he and his whole family left town. Seriously, like left town - picked up and moved away. I mean, his family is loaded, so I guess they can do things like that. They've gotta be millionaires. So they leave, cut off all ties, and she's just devastated. After a few months of catatonic moping, she comes to see me. We weren't really in touch over the months, and seeing her was like...like I don't know - oxygen or something. It was like I needed her to live." I throw an apologetic look at Shea. I know this has to be hard for her to hear, but she did ask.

"Anyway, we hung out for awhile. A long time, actually. And we got really, really close. We weren't technically going out, but we spent most of our free time together, and maybe she didn't fall in love, but I did. Like enough to think we were gonna be forever, y'know?" I look at Shea, and her face is wistful. I roll my eyes at my own stupidity.

"And then...?" she asks, as if she knows.

I nod. "Yeah, and then. And then he came back."

Shea sits silent, just looking at me. "I'm sorry, Jake," she finally says. "You basically pulled her up and then he swept in and took her away again. That sucks." She pauses, then says haltingly, "Were you guys...intimate?"

I look at her like she's crazy. Where does she think I learned all my moves? Just from checking out Penthouse Forum? Before my brain tells it not to, my mouth blurts out, "Fuck yeah we were. As intimate as I've ever been with anyone."

She flinches. Okay, that wasn't cool. I really don't like the guy I'm turning out to be - this bitter, nasty person. It's not me. I used to be happy, fun, carefree. Look what she's done to me.

"I'm sorry, Shea," I say, and this time I mean it and it sounds like it.

"It's okay," she says, but her tone tells me how much it hurt her to hear that. "I asked." She looks at me pensively. "Maybe...have you tried to get back together with her?" This is what I mean when I say Shea is one of the nicest people I've ever met. What girlfriend who's just been dumped would suggest the boyfriend go back to his ex? She just wants me to be happy - and that kills me.

To cover the sympathetic feeling I'm having for her, I chuff out a sound - I wouldn't call it a laugh, but it's sort of like that. "Oh you haven't heard the best part," I tell her.

"The part about the phone calls?" she asks. God, now I feel twice as bad. She's so sweet it's hardly believable.

"Kind of," I say gently. I don't want to accidentally blurt something out again, something hurtful. "It's when she makes the phone calls. When her husband is out of town."

"She's married!?" she asks incredulously. "How old is she? You said she was in high school, right?"

"Up until last May. He came back in August. She married him this past February."

Shea is stunned at this development. She's almost as stunned as I was when I heard. "Wait, I'm not getting this. They're both your age, right?"

"Yeah, that's right," I confirm.

"What's the big rush to get married? That's ridiculous!" Shea splutters.

Shea's reaction reminds me of my own. The last time I phased involuntarily. A friend of mine, Embry, was home from college for a long weekend - President's Day, I think it was. It was the only time Shea hadn't been attached to me at the hip since we'd started seeing each other. She was on a business trip, buying samples in New York. Embry had come over and gravely sat at my kitchen table to tell me the news.

I'll never forget the way he looked when he told me. I seriously thought someone had died. He began with this long story of how he hung out with Bella's friend Jessica at UC Berkeley, where they'd both gotten scholarships. How Jess had missed classes two weeks prior to come home to Forks and stand up in a wedding. How the wedding was Bella's.

At first I didn't believe him. I wanted to hit him, to somehow shut him up. But before I could, I felt myself lose control. Rage changed me into the wolf, right there at my dad's rickety kitchen table. Embry somehow got me outside and phased himself so he could talk me down. We repaired the table together the next day. I've been dead inside ever since.

"I know," I say, trying to control my emotions.

"Oh my god, Jake, jeez!" she continues. "I can't even imagine! And now she calls you? And what does she say, this woman who's been married for two whole months?" Shea's a little sarcastic, and instead of getting mad, it makes me feel a little better. Because someone else thinks Bella's insane too. It's not just me.

"She tells me that she misses me," I say quietly. "She asks why we broke up."

Shea shakes her head, exhaling. "Wow." She turns to me and in the darkness I can see tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. She's crying because of the hurt I'm going through. I realize with alarm that I don't deserve her. "I can't even comprehend how much that has to hurt. No wonder you're a hot mess."

We both laugh spontaneously. She's right; I am a mess. "Yeah, I used to be normal," I tell her with a shaky grin.

She leans over the gear shift and takes me in her arms, her warm little hand reaching up to play with the hair at the nape of my neck. It's comforting. I let myself relax into her arms and sigh as I rest my head on her shoulder. I realize that I'm actually crying, and I feel like a huge pussy, but it feels so good to let it out that I can't stop it.

"Okay, baby, okay," she croons soothingly. There's nothing else to say, and she says nothing else. She disentangles herself after an indeterminate amount of time and we go inside. While I cry myself to sleep like a toddler, she holds me in her arms, and that's all I need right now.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Okay, it's Sunday, and you know what that means - time for an update. Thanks to all who have favorited and followed, and especially to those who have reviewed. Love it. Live for it. So thanks for that. **

**Onward and upward - let's see what our boy is up to. Anything you recognize isn't mine, sadly. Enjoy! And Happy St. Patrick's Day.**

Chapter 4

The next morning, I'm too embarrassed from my pathetic display of emotion last night to stick around until she wakes up. I'm out of the house before six. I escape on my motorcycle, walking it down the gravel drive so I don't wake her up with its snarling engine. When I'm a good distance away, I go ahead and kick her started, then I take off, not really thinking at all about where I'm going but rather about Shea and what I'm doing to her.

I think I have Shea figured out. She's one of those girls who wants to save me. She sees potential in everything, I realize as I take the curves of the reservation roads at death-defying speeds. I've seen it in everything we do; at an antique store, when she sees a stray animal, even at my broken down shack of a house. In Shea's eyes, everything can be made better with a little attention, a little TLC. She wants to give everything a bath, slap on a coat of paint, rearrange shit to make everything all better. I know that's what she wants to do with me. I'm a project. I wonder what would happen if I let her go ahead and improve me. Would she get sick of me then? Or would she be content with her finished product?

I'm blazing down the streets of Forks now, giving no heed to the speed limit in the tiny town. My mind is completely occupied with Shea. I think back to the stark realization I came to last night – that I don't deserve her. It's true. She's far and away too good for me. The thought depresses me, and I'm surprised by how intensely. I didn't think I cared about Shea that much. Maybe I'm not as hopeless as I think.

I have to let her go somehow, set her free. This is one project she'll never be able to complete. Unless she can somehow magically change into someone else, I will never be 'fixed.' I don't think she'll go easy, though – obviously - since I tried to break up with her last night and she just followed me home. Maybe I wasn't clear about breaking up. But I can't really bring myself to be even _meaner_ to her!

I'm suddenly aware of the sound of a siren, and a flashing light in my rear-view mirror. Charlie Swan, Bella's dad and the Forks Chief of Police, is on my tail and he's pulling me over for speeding, I'm sure. Fuck!

Contritely, I steer the bike to the side of the road and dig in my pocket for my license. Charlie and I go way back, since before I was born. His dad and mine are good friends. But he doesn't abide two-wheeled vehicles, and he sure as hell doesn't like me speeding down the streets of his little town.

He's flipping open his citation spiral as he walks up to me. "Hey, Jake," he greets me with a snarky grin. "What're you doing out here in Forks so early?"

"Just blowing off some steam," I answer, praying I don't sound too smart-assed. "How've you been?"

He's looking at his notebook, and he nods. "Good, good," he says without looking up. "You were going kinda fast, Jake. Not what I'd call safe, even at this hour of the day."

Now I'm apologetic, hoping to get out of the ticket I'm sure he's already writing. "Yeah, sorry about that Charlie. I was…uh…thinking."

"You were doing 49 in a 35 is what you were doing, son. I can't really let you go on that one."

"Aw, come on, Charlie. You're the chief. You can let me go. I promise I'll slow down." My voice takes on a cajoling tone. I know he doesn't want to give me a ticket. He likes me too much.

He looks at me, cocking one eyebrow, then shakes his head. "Ah, I can't give you a ticket, kid." He says, giving up. "Whaddya hear from your old man? He coming back soon?" I can tell Charlie misses his fishing buddy.

"Not till September. Beck wants to keep him for the summer. He's having the time of his life over there. My brother in law has him sitting on a surf board. He's trying to get him to catch a wave."

Charlie busts out laughing. "Yeah, that'll be the day," he says. "Alright, kid, good to see you. Slow down and keep that helmet on." He turns to go back to his cruiser and it occurs to me that I haven't seen Charlie since before the wedding. He didn't say a word about it, then or now. I know Charlie has a little grudge against that Cullen freak for leaving Bella like that a year ago last September, and I wonder what he thinks about the husband and wife thing. All this goes through my head before he even reaches his car, so I call out to him.

"Hey, Charlie, wait up," I say. I saunter over to him. "I hear you have a new son-in-law. What gives? The Blacks weren't invited to the soiree?"

Charlie flashes an expression of extreme frustration. "You heard about that, huh?" he asks.

I huff a laugh. "This is Forks, remember?" I say as an answer.

"Yeah. Sorry about that," he says, looking sheepish. A thought occurs to him. "Hey, let's go over to Lila's Café. We can have a cup of coffee and I'll bring you up to speed."

"I'll follow you," I say in assent, ignoring the lame joke I could make about being up to speed. I go back to my bike, kick her started, and follow him to the cozy little dive that is Lila's.

Charlie is treated like royalty in this little town, and nowhere is this more apparent than at Lila's. They skitter around, wiping off his 'favorite' table and putting on a fresh pot of coffee for him. A good looking middle-aged waitress brings him a plate of fresh, hot doughnut holes rolled in cinnamon-sugar. "On the house, Chief," she says as she swings away.

"Wow," I comment. "Come here often?"

Charlie laughs, but there's something off about it. "Yeah, I guess you could say that," he says. "Ever since Bella's been gone, I've been eating out a lot."

And suddenly I see why he's got that strange demeanor. It's because of Bella, same as me.

"Yeah," I agree carefully. I don't want to offend him, but I want his take on the situation. "So that wedding thing came around kind of fast, didn't it?"

He looks at me quickly, as if I've guessed something he was trying to hide. He's quiet for a second, looking at me, and then he says, "I thought so, too." There's a long silence as we watch each other. Then he says, "Do you think there's something...weird…about the Cullens?"

I hope he doesn't see the panic in my eyes. I'm trying really hard not to show it, but it's difficult. I decide to play it cool, try to make a joke of it. "You mean besides the paleface look, perfect clothes, ridiculously expensive cars, and outrageous house? Nah, they seem like your regular run-of-the-mill smalltown folks to me, Charlie. I don't know _what_ you're talking about."

It works; Charlie laughs - but there's an edge to it. He's not buying my jocularity. "Yeah, besides that. I don't mean those things. I mean...something..._not right_."

I'm not saying a word. He watches me through narrowed eyes, and I see that Charlie is petrified. And that scares the shit out of me.

If Charlie's afraid - especially if he's afraid for Bella - there's no telling what he'll do. He doesn't know about the vampire thing or the shapeshifter thing, and I don't want him to find out. If he goes sniffing around in his cop-like way, he's bound to figure something out. That's the last thing we need. I feel like I have to throw him off the trail.

Or should I? Would he force Bella to leave Cullen, or at least help her do it if she decided to? She might need her dad on her side and in the know sometime in the future. Now I'm torn. What do I do?

"I dunno, Charlie," I say, feigning ignorance. "I don't know that I'd call them normal, but they don't seem to bother anyone."

This is, at least, the truth.

"They bother _me_," he mutters, but it's too quiet for a regular human to hear, so I have to pretend I can't either. But I have to admit, they bother me too.

The waitress brings us fresh coffee and we dig into the doughnut holes. They literally melt in my mouth. They're amazing. I can't stop raving about them. This seems to amuse Charlie.

"So what have you been up to since graduation? I hear you're still working at Sam's," he says.

"Yeah, it pays the bills," I answer, but I want more info about Bella. "So the wedding was nice?"

"It was nice," he agrees reluctantly. "I mean, there wasn't a hint of Bella in it, but it was nice." I don't know what he means by that, so I let it go.

"And you left me out because Dad was out of town?" I ask nonchalantly.

"No. I asked her about you. She said she didn't think you could handle it," he says, watching my reaction. He knows about our situation - how we were seeing each other, how she dumped me unceremoniously when Cullen returned. I was pretty sure he was on my side about it. I find it interesting that he didn't make her invite me.

"Couldn't talk her into inviting me, huh?" I asked.

I saw the pity in his face before he even opened his mouth. "Believe me, I tried," he said. "Her and that husband of hers put the kibosh on it. I think it was mostly him."

This makes me seethe. I hate the fact that he's controlling her. And I see that Charlie doesn't like it either. It interests me that he won't say his name either. He's like me in that respect.

"Huh," is all I can think of to say. I want to rant, but it would embarrass me later, so I shut my mouth and pop in another doughnut hole. After swallowing it, along with some of my resentment, I muster up this gem. "But you think she's happy, right?"

The fact that he has to think about it tells me everything I need to know. He knows she's not. He doesn't know what to do about it any more than I do. "I guess," he finally mutters.

"And that's what matters, right?" I'm goading him now. I can't help it. He's her father. If anyone could influence her, it's him.

"Look, Jake," he says. "I don't know what's going on over at that museum she lives in, but I hardly ever talk to the girl, let alone see her. And when I do talk to her, it's when he's not there. She sounds miserable, but that can't be – they're newlyweds, for cripe sake. She's supposed to be deliriously happy right now. Maybe she always sounds so depressed when I talk to her because he's away at those times. I don't know…" He trails off, uncertain.

"Yeah," I say before I think. "That's when she calls me, too."

He looks up at me from his coffee cup, surprised. "What?" he asks incredulously. "She calls _you_?"

Instantly I regret telling him. He's blown away by this revelation. I nod reluctantly. "Yeah, about every couple weeks. When he goes on his little nature walks or whatever they're calling them now."

"Okay, now that's something else again. I don't like that one bit." Charlie is indignant. "If she's doing that, to me that means she's unhappy. And if that's the case then something has to be done."

I squint at Charlie. "Like what?" I ask, sarcastically interested. "You gonna go in there and carry her off?"

He regards me like I'm stupid, and maybe I am. "If she's not happy, then I'll talk to her. Figure out if this is still what she wants," he explains like I'm five.

"You don't think he'd hurt her somehow, do you?" I ask. I know for a fact that he wouldn't, but it doesn't hurt to have Charlie think he might. That would really light a fire under him. I feel sort of bad for creating worry for the guy, but this is Bella we're talking about.

Charlie's eyes blaze at my question. "Well, God help him if he has, because I'll kill the son of a bitch," he spits. It's the first time I've ever heard Charlie utter anything that sounds remotely like a swear word.

"Take it easy, Charlie," I say in a placating tone. "I'm just asking."

"The thing is, Jake, I've thought of it before. He keeps her away from me and her friends. He's very manipulative. I think he won't let her use the car – or at least, she doesn't come over to see me. And the fact that she calls me only when he's not around makes me think that he's not letting her call if he _is_there. Those are all classic examples of an abusive relationship." He looks at me. "He wouldn't let her invite you to the wedding. Isn't that proof right there? You guys were best friends for months. I can't even think of how much that hurt her not to invite you."

I let this sink in for a few minutes, sipping the coffee. "Maybe she told the truth. Maybe she didn't think I could handle it."

"I think it was more like _he_thought you couldn't handle it," Charlie says. "That was her excuse for not inviting you, but the look in her eyes said she wanted you there. You want my opinion? I think he's jealous of you. And that's another sign of an abusive relationship. He's married to her, right? What's he got to be jealous of?"

I narrow my eyes at him, trying to look confused, but I really want to break into a huge grin. I'd love it if that bloodsucking leech was jealous of me. That douche knows Bella better than anyone except me - ah, maybe better than me even. If he's jealous, there's a reason. And if there's a reason, that means she might still love me like I love her.

Is that possible? Can she still love me? Even after marrying that prick, can she still have those feelings for me?

I know my feelings for her haven't changed. If anything they've gotten stronger. I thought they'd diminish with time, but not seeing her has made the feelings almost unbearable. I want her so bad I can taste it.

"You seriously think he's jealous of me?" I ask Charlie.

"He's so jealous of you he doesn't know which way is up," Charlie says. "I could see it at the wedding. Any time she mentioned your name, he got this crazy look. I'm a cop, Jake. I've been on my share of domestic disturbance calls. I've seen that look. He's jealous. Extremely jealous."

I don't ask Charlie what I want to ask him: whether he thinks Cullen has a reason to be jealous of me. I don't think he knows anyway, but if I ask him, I'll risk looking like a fool. I don't want to reveal that hope that's flickering in my chest, trying to start a fire. I know Bella misses me, but is it just for the physical stuff that she can't really have with the vamp? Or is it actually _me_ she misses?

"Speak of the devil," Charlie says mildly, looking out the window of the café. I turn my head to see what's caught his attention and Bella's douche of a husband drives by in his stupid shiny Volvo. He peers into the café, searching for Charlie I'm sure, because he's seen the cruiser. I wonder if he recognizes my cycle. His eyes lock with mine as I sit there with his father-in-law, and I see a flash of anger…and maybe there is jealousy there too.

I try very hard to blank my mind. I've gotten into this habit whenever I see this prick. He has an ability that would drive the most patient person insane – he can read minds. I don't want him seeing anything about Bella in mine.

But Charlie doesn't know this. I'm sure his mind is wide open and full of thoughts about what he sees as his only daughter's unhappy marriage.

The vamp turns his little twerpy car in to the parking lot at Lila's. Fuck. Now would not be a good time for a visit, after the line I've been feeding Charlie about Cullen possibly hurting Bella somehow. I wonder what's going through Charlie's head right now and if Cullen can read it. They're both good at hiding things, so it's hard to say.

I figure out what Charlie is thinking pretty quick, though. He doesn't want a confrontation here, in his home-away-from-home diner where he's treated like a visiting dignitary. He throws some money on the table, tells me it's on him, and makes for the door like the place is on fire. He's out in the parking lot a second later, leaning down to talk to Cullen who's still in the driver's seat of his car.

They commiserate for a few minutes, with Cullen craning his neck to see me from where he's sitting and Charlie trying to block him. I wait, because I know Charlie wants me to, but inside I'm dying to go out there and give that son of a bitch a piece of my mind. How dare he keep Bella from inviting me to the wedding? I should have been there. I would have taken her away, or protested at that one part where they ask if anyone knows why they shouldn't get married, or something…

After a few minutes of what looks like civil discussion, Charlie straightens up and shakes Cullen's hand. He continues to block Cullen's view of me, and I stay where I am until I see Cullen pull away before I go out to the parking lot myself. Charlie's still out there, leaning against the cruiser as I walk over.

"He's on his way back to Bella," Charlie says as I approach. "I didn't know, but the rest of his family isn't even there. He and Bells are living in that big place all by themselves right now."

I don't like that one bit, and I can see he doesn't either. "Is that safe?" I ask him, knowing what his answer will be.

"I sure don't like it," Charlie says. "She's out there all alone when he leaves town. I told him that from now on I want him to bring her to my place when he goes on his trips. At least she'll have some company."

"Did he say anything else?" I ask.

"No, I didn't think it was really the time or the place to ask him if he thinks Bella's happy," Charlie says. I can tell this is bothering him. "I did invite them over for dinner tonight. Maybe I can talk to them then."

I nod. I hope Charlie will be able to figure it out. I think if Bella stopped calling me, there might be a chance that I could begin to move on. I see now that her happiness is more important than anything.

"Well, Jake, it was good seeing you. Say hello to your dad from me when you talk to him, okay?"

"Sure, sure," I say to Charlie, shaking his hand. "Good luck with Bella later."

"Yeah, thanks," he says absently. His mind is elsewhere and I can't blame him. I'm worried about Bella, too – more worried now than I was before I talked to him. "Slow down, now," he admonishes as he gets into the squad car. I nod, slinging my leg over the bike.

I let him pull away first, and slowly leave the lot in the opposite direction. A plan is forming in my head, and it's all I can do to keep the bike under 80. I want to get home just as fast as possible and drop the bike off. I'm going to be at Charlie's tonight, listening to whatever those three say.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hi, and sorry. I know it's Tuesday and I'm supposed to update on Sundays. I was out of town without my real computer and my iPad wasn't cooperating. Thanks for your patience, and again, so sorry! Anyway, here's chapter 5, hope you like it - please review if you do, or even if you don't. Love to hear from you! Big thanks to everyone who has followed, favorited, etc - and especially to those reviewers - it always makes my day. Obligatory disclaimer: Anything you recognize isn't mine... Aaaaannnnddd - hit it!**

Chapter 5

When I get back to my place, I see that Shea's car is gone and breathe a sigh of relief. I'm not emotionally rested enough for another heart-to-heart with her. I go into the kitchen and fry a steak, eating it while it's still bloody because I can't wait for it to cook. I'm starving and those doughnut holes only served to make me hungrier. I slide the steak onto a plate and eat it while I cook myself a half dozen eggs and toast about a loaf of bread. I eat the eggs right out of the pan while leaning against the sink and feel ten times better after I'm sated. I don't bother with a shower, but I do take a nap. I have a few hours until Charlie will be serving dinner to his daughter and her husband, so I figure grabbing a couple of winks will give me an edge later.

Hours after I fall asleep, I'm awoken by my phone vibrating. Groggy, I feel around the bed for it and blearily press the Answer button. "'Lo?" I say hoarsely.

"Jake, it's me," Seth says.

I sit up, rubbing my hand sleepily over my face. "What time is it?" I ask him.

"Four thirty. Were you sleeping?"

"Yeah," I answer.

"What you got going tonight?"

"I'm going out," I say evasively. I know if I tell the pack what I'm doing, they'll try to talk me out of it. None of them approve of my obsession with Bella. They think, and they might be right, that she's trouble for me.

"You want company?" Seth asks. "I'm bored."

"Naw, man. I'm on my own with this one."

He's quiet for a minute. I could tell my plans to Seth. I know he's the only one who wouldn't try to sway me. While he shares the opinion of the rest of the pack, he also sees my point. He knows I can't just stop loving her, like turning off a faucet. "Whaddya got going?" he asks after a minute of saying nothing.

Still, I don't _want_ to tell him. If he knows, it's only a matter of time until the pack knows. It's not because he'd tell, because he wouldn't. But there's that mindreading thing that occurs when we're wolves. We can tell what the other wolves' thoughts are. I don't want someone pulling my plan out of Seth's head and confronting me with it later. "Uh, it's just something I gotta do," I say, continuing the caginess.

"You're doing something that involves Bella, aren't you?" he asks. The kid is astute. I don't answer him. "Seriously, Jake, you're looking for trouble. I'm pretty sure Edward is back in town. Going to the Cullen place is a bad call. You're gonna piss him off."

"First of all, I'm not going to the Cullen place," I tell him. I hate even hearing the bloodsucker's given name, and I'm surprised by the anger it stirs in me. I'm also a little ticked at Seth for trying to tell me how to live my life. "And secondly, do you really think I give a flying fuck if he gets pissed off?"

"You sure you don't want someone to watch your six?" he asks. I know he's just trying to help. I know he just wants to make sure I'll be safe. But I'm telling him the truth. I'm not going to the Cullen's house. I know that would be dangerous, what with our Hatfield and McCoy type feud going on. I know I can't set a paw on their property, so I have no intention of doing it. But Charlie's house is neutral ground. I'll be safe enough there. I know how to keep myself from being seen and still listen to what they're saying. Seth might not be as stealthy.

"Look, Seth, I know you want to help," I say. "I appreciate it. But I'm not doing anything to violate the treaty, and I'll be safe. Nothing will happen to me, okay?"

"Okay," he says reluctantly. "It's just that an extra set of eyes…"

"I know," I interrupt him. "Trust me, okay? I know what I'm doing."

"Do ya?" he asks. "I hope so." He says goodbye and we hang up.

Talking to him has done nothing to change my mind about my plan to listen in on Charlie's come-to-Jesus talk with Bella and her spouse. I glance at the clock and realize that in Charlie-world, dinner would be served at approximately 5:30. I need to get a move on if I'm going to get over there and hide myself before Bella and what's-his-name arrive.

I quickly clean up the mess I made fixing myself food and lock up the place. Checking around my little house, I see that it's starting to get dark. I saunter nonchalantly into the woods, disrobing as soon as I hit the little clearing. There's a wood pile and a tarp there, and I always stow my clothes under the tarp to protect them from weather. I'm only wearing a pair of old sweat pants, so taking off my clothes takes less than no time, and before I know it, I'm skulking through the woods towards Charlie's house.

It's a good half hour drive, but it's only about eighteen miles from where I live to Charlie's house. I can cut through the forest, so I have the advantage there. Plus I like to run fast. I'm at Charlie's place before darkness falls. I sneak around in the woods behind his house, looking for a good vantage point.

I can see him in the kitchen, getting ready. I realize he hasn't cooked anything when I smell Chinese takeout. He's heaping it into serving bowls and setting the tiny table in his kitchen. I wonder idly what Cullen does when he's supposed to be eating. He only eats what any other vampire eats – blood. So what's he going to do with Chinese food?

The weather today is surprisingly mild for this area at this time of year, and I have mixed feelings when I see Charlie opening the kitchen window to let in the fresh air. It will be much easier for me to hear them this way, but it will also be easier for Cullen to catch my scent. I stay in the woods, watching and waiting. When it's completely dark and Bella gets here, I'll change position and move closer to the house.

I hear the purr of the Volvo long before I see it. I'm glad the breeze is from the south, because it means Cullen won't be able to catch my scent as he walks in. I make a mental note to stay north of the house. It will make it much more uncomfortable for me, because I'll be downwind of him, but it will hide me better.

I'm dying to change position so I can at least see her walk in. I haven't seen her in what seems like ages and I miss her like crazy. A tiny whine escapes my throat involuntarily as I crane my neck to catch a glimpse. But it's no use. I detect her smell – her amazing, fresh, soft smell – for just a second, and then it's gone and I smell the corpse-like odor of her disgusting mate. I haven't smelled vamp in awhile either, and the horrible stench almost overwhelms me. I shake my head, trying to clear it as I watch the kitchen window like a hawk.

"It's really good to see you Dad," Bella says, her voice muffled into Charlie's shoulder as she holds him tight in a hug.

"You too, kiddo," he answers gruffly. I see Cullen standing back from the family reunion, a look on his face I can't decipher. Then I place it. It's a domineering, cocksure look he always has on his face around Bella. Like he's running the show. Like he's in charge of her.

If I wasn't already the wolf, the look on his face would turn me involuntarily, I think to myself, though maybe I'm just being dramatic. But I know one thing: I don't like that look.

Charlie doesn't seem to like it either. He's facing me but he's looking at Cullen. Bella's back is to me, and I will her to turn around so I can see her face. Her beautiful, breathtaking face.

Bella disentangles herself from Charlie and self-consciously fixes her clothes as she glances around the little kitchen that she used to be the queen of. I'm sure she misses cooking for Charlie; it was one of her favorite things.

I finally catch a glimpse of her face. Her eyes. That's what I notice first. Those chocolate brown eyes, soft and sad, looking around that kitchen like it's the last time she'll see it. She looks miserable. Miserably beautiful.

Yeah, I can't help it. She looks unbelievably incredible to me. And all I want to do is somehow get that despondent look off her face.

She looks thinner, her eyes taking up more of her face. Her skin is lifeless and pale. Her hair hangs lank against her head. She almost looks as bad as she did when Cullen left her. Almost. I have to swallow more than once to get the lump out of my throat. God, I miss her so much. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea after all.

I sneak closer to the house. I just want to be nearer to her, to smell her, to hear her. She's my whole world, this hundred pound girl. I see her flip her hair over her shoulder and begin to serve dinner. It's like she can't help it; she's in Charlie's kitchen and she immediately becomes the hostess.

"Sit down, Bella, you're a guest," Charlie tells her jovially, but she just flashes him a smile and continues to load the table with the food Charlie's 'prepared.' But then Cullen steps in.

He speaks in a friendly voice, and there's a touch of underlying humor, but I hear the threat in his tone, too - or maybe I'm just imagining it. "Bella, listen to Charlie. He says you're a guest," he says. Bella's face changes abruptly, and the smile falls away. She nods at Cullen and sits down. The scene is not lost on Charlie. He watches Bella with a combination of fear and anger.

What the hell is going on with her?

I see now that there's no way Cullen is going to let Bella talk to Charlie candidly while he's sitting right there. And I know of a way to get him away from them, too. It will involve missing most of what I came for, but like I said, I don't think Bella's going to be unveiling any big revelations about her relationship with Cullen listening. He's got some kind of hold over her, some kind of power. It's like she's brainwashed.

I curse myself for not having Seth come with me. He could've helped here. Now I'll have to leave, run home, get my clothes, and come back. It's the only way Charlie will get a moment alone with his daughter.

I turn away from the kitchen window scene and dejectedly start toward home. That's when I hear Sam phase in.

_"What are you up to, Jacob?"_ he demands sternly. Quickly, I go over the details of the situation and what I'm thinking. I end up with a question to Sam regarding how he knew I was out tonight. "_Seth told me_," he answers shortly, "_and stay put. We'll bring clothes to you. You left '__em__in your regular place_?"

"_Yeah_," I think at him.

"_Okay, hang tight. We're coming_."

I'm surprised by how comforted I feel that my brothers are on their way. I resume watching the little kitchen scene, glad now that I'll be able to observe the interaction before making my big entrance to give Charlie his time with Bella. Another good thing about the guys being on their way: they'll be able to watch and listen while Charlie and Bella talk. And I'll be able to pull it out of their heads word-for-word. It'll be almost as good as being there myself.

Because I'll be occupying Cullen while Charlie talks to Bella. And I know just how to keep him busy. I'm going to play on that jealousy thing. I plan on showing him just exactly how obsessed I am, and how much Bella is missing me.

They're making small talk over the Chow Fun and the egg rolls. Charlie says, "So, Edward...how was the hunting trip?"

"Fine," Cullen answers quickly. He offers nothing else.

"I notice you never bring anything home from these trips. Why is that?" Charlie continues nonchalantly.

"I usually have the meat butchered and drop it off at the homeless shelter in Port Angeles," he lies. I know he's full of shit. He leaves the carcasses where he drains them. There's no charitable dropping off of food, not like anyone would want a nice mountain lion steak anyway. But Charlie seems to buy it.

He turns his attention to Bella. My girl seems like she's in her own little world - she's eating mechanically, staring at the table and not joining in the conversation. Charlie says, "Bella, did Edward mention that we met up today?"

Bells looks as if she's just woken up. She smiles at her dad. "Well, duh. We're here. You invited us to dinner, right?"

"Yeah, but did he tell you what else I said? I don't want you out at the Cullen place all alone when Edward's gone. I told him to drop you here when he's going to be out of town from now on. That way you won't get lonely."

I can tell by the panicked look in her eyes that this is the first she's heard of this. Briefly, I glance at Cullen. He's not happy that Charlie's let this out of the bag. Bella looks at Cullen and he fakes a smile. "I forgot that part," he says. "Charlie would like you to stay here when I go hunting. Won't that be nice?"

It seems forced and insincere, and I wonder if it's as obvious to Charlie as it is to me. Bella gets it, though. She forces a smile too. "That's not necessary, Dad," she says to Charlie. "The Cullen's house is very safe." It doesn't escape me that she calls the house she lives in 'the Cullen's house.' Is that a little strange, or is it just me?

I'm wondering now if this is more than just the general hiding of the Cullens' 'lifestyle.' Bella is reacting oddly, and Cullen seems even pushier than usual. It's obvious that they didn't want to come here tonight - or at least Cullen didn't. Bella seemed happy to see her dad when they first arrived, but her behavior has gotten progressively strange ever since they walked through the door. What's going on with them?

All I want to do now is get Cullen out of the house so that Bella and Charlie can talk. If I happen to come face to face with Bella while I'm at it, then that's just an added bonus. As I'm thinking this, I hear Bella talking. She's desperately trying to make conversation. "So, Dad. What's going on at work?" she asks.

What's going on at _work?!_ Is she serious? He works as a police officer in the smallest, most boring town on the planet. This is getting out of hand. Charlie starts to tell her about some big theft ring that's working the grocery store parking lot, robbing the moms in their spandex pants of their prized Michael Bolton CDs. I zone out, listening for the pack members and tuning in to their whereabouts. They're almost here.

I listen a little more to the lame dinner conversation between Bella and her father. Charlie is dying for Bella to reveal something – anything – about her relationship with Cullen, but I can see he doesn't want to ask. The wolves are descending now – I can hear them in the woods – and I leave my post under the kitchen window to join them.

Seth and Sam show up. Seth has brought my sweat pants with him, tied to his ankle. We iron out the details of our idea. I'm going to pound on Charlie's door and demand to talk to Cullen about something stupid, like the wedding. It will fit in perfect with meeting up with Charlie earlier – I've been told by Charlie that they were asked to dinner and I'm also aware through him of the reason they didn't invite me to the wedding. I can play that up, no problem. And showing up at Charlie's in sweat pants is pretty believable for a fuck up like me.

Sam and Seth move in to listen, parking themselves under the window just like I did. They can hear perfectly there. I shimmer down into my human self and put the pants on. I'm keyed up now and should have no problem with working myself into a frenzy to confront Cullen. I don't think it will look fake at all.

My heart pounding, I go to Charlie's front door. I hope with every ounce of faith in me that Bella will answer the door and I'll have one split second with her alone. But of course, after I pound on the door and shout, "CULLEN!" the only one coming to the door is Charlie.

"Jake, what are you doing here?" Charlie snarls, pulling the door open violently.

"Don't get involved in this, Charlie. This is between me and him!" I mutter angrily. It's easy to pretend that I'm furious. All I have to do is think of Bella going home with that pathetic excuse for a husband of hers, and I see red.

"What's this all about?" asks Cullen, walking into my line of vision.

I almost reach out and crush him right there. I swear, if Charlie wasn't there, I would. And then, like an angel, she comes around the corner from the kitchen. Her face is troubled. She has a little crease between her eyebrows. But when she sees me, she lights up. Her eyes widen and a huge smile splits her face in two. But then, as her steps quicken and she pushes through Charlie and Cullen and throws herself into my arms, her expression crumples. "Jake…Jake," she sobs.

All I can say in reply is, "Bells…"

I hold her like my life depends on it. Her tiny frame seems even smaller as it snuggles right into my arms, and I feel her trembling with emotion. She continues to sob my name, her face pressed into my bare chest. I can feel her lips moving against my skin as they repeat over and over, "Jake."

There's only a second of the bliss before Cullen pulls Bella off me by the shoulders. She looks up at me, her eyes red-rimmed. "Sorry, Jake, it's just been…well, it seems like forever."

"Come here, Bella," Cullen croons, pulling her close. He puts his icy arm around her shoulder. "Now what's this all about, Jacob?"

"I want to talk to you, Cullen. And it's personal," I spit at his stone-like face.

"I have nothing to say to you, Jacob," he intones.

"Well, I have something to say to you," I tell him with a sneer. "I don't care if you don't want to hear it, and I don't care if you say anything back. You'll listen to me, you son of a bitch. You owe me."

Charlie starts to protest my language, but Cullen cuts him off. He comes close to me and gets right in my face. "I owe you _nothing_," he says between clenched teeth.

"All right, just a second, men," Charlie interrupts. He separates us. "Jacob, what's the problem? What made you come over here tonight?"

"He knew I'd be here," Cullen says.

"I just want to talk to him, Charlie. Don't worry, I won't hurt him." I snap.

"Just talk to him, Edward," Bella begs him.

Cullen looks at Bella and he seems to relent. "I'll talk to you, Jacob. I'll let you say your piece," he says in his oh-so-snooty way. "Shall we go outside?"

"I'm already outside," I tell him, turning my back on him and walking down the driveway. I know he'll follow, and he does.

I lead him to the end of the driveway, and I turn around to face him. With a cocky smirk, I let my mind go right to the phone call I got two nights ago and think of every word she said. Then I think of the call from last night, the one where she told me it wasn't just my friendship she missed. I see the look on his face – it's furious and saddened at once. I haven't said one word, and already I see the jealousy in his eyes. It's great.

"Yeah, I think your…_wife_…might be a little unhappy, Cullen," I say.

"It doesn't help that you're calling her," he spits.

"I'm not calling her. She's calling me. You losing your talent? Can't read minds like you used to?"

"You called her at least once."

I nod with a shit-eating grin. "Yeah, I called her once. I called once and she called me over and over. Every time you go out of town, I get a call." My voice goes high and girly. "'I miss you, Jake! Why did we break up?' That's what I hear from her. That's what your…_wife_…says to me when she calls me."

"Cut to the chase. What do you want from me, Jacob?" he asks.

"I want you to let her go," I say.

"Jacob, she married me. As you have pointed out…twice, I might add – she is my _wife_. Letting her 'go,' as you say, is impossible."

"You might want to ask her about that," I say to him. "She's the one who suggested it."

He's speechless. He stands there, looking devastated, and I suddenly feel sorry for him. He may be a manipulative, controlling bastard, but he truly does love Bella in his way. It's not his fault he's a bloodsucker. He does try to be a law-abiding one, I'll say that for him. And I know what it's like to love Bella and wonder – wonder what she's thinking, wonder who she really wants to be with.

And really, all I wanted to do was give Charlie a few minutes to talk to her. That's when I think of my next tack. "Did you ever think that maybe letting her…oh, I don't know…actually _see_ her friends and family? Maybe let her talk to them when you're there, and not only when you're gone?"

"There isn't time," he says bleakly.

"Why not?" I blurt, taken by surprise. No time? What's he talking about?

"It's a long story, Jacob. But when I'm there, we're…otherwise occupied."

My eyes narrow. What could they possibly be busy with that takes all day? "Doing what?"

"Let's just say I'm trying my best to make her happy," Cullen sulks. "I know she's been…troubled…since we married. I'm trying to fix it."

"Is that why everyone else left?" I ask.

He glances at me, then back down at the pavement. His hands are shoved in his pockets. His shoulders are hunched. For the first time I realize he looks almost as bad as Bella. "They haven't left, per se. They're just staying out of the way. They watch over her when I'm gone, but they don't stay at the house. We felt she needed her alone time, given her condition."

"What condition?" I ask, panicked now.

He looks at me, puzzled. "Her unhappiness. Her depression, for want of a better word," he says as if it's obvious.

I make a face like he's the stupid one. "So basically they spy on her the whole time you're gone?" I ask, my tone sarcastic. "That's a good idea. Leave a fragile, depressed girl alone for several days a month. Oh, and peer in at her from time to time to be sure she gets extra paranoid. Great little plan you vamps have cooked up."

He seems surprised that I've nailed the situation so succinctly, or is it that he's thinking that I'm right for a change? "Yes," he says. "You _are_ right. It's so difficult to know what to do when you're as close to the situation as I am."

"Maybe you should just let her go," I say again. "She wants out."

"Sometimes," he admits. "Sometimes you're right - she does want out. Other times, she's determined to make it work. Because_ I _alsowant to make it work, I'm not giving up. So no, Jacob. She's not leaving yet."

Yet. I cling to that word. It means he's considering it. That sometime in the future, he might actually let my girl go and then she can be with me again, the way it's supposed to be.

I want to draw this conversation out, and even though I've heard enough from him and it makes my skin crawl just to be near him, I stare him down and get in his face belligerently. "Why didn't you let her invite me to the wedding?" I snap at him. I'm taking a chance here. It may have been her idea not to invite me, but I'm going with my gut on this one. I really think it was him who barred me from their little ceremony. And I really do want to know why.

He sighs and seems almost human for a minute. "Jacob, do you really think you could have held it together? Because I didn't think so." I knew it. Not a mention of Bella or what she wanted.

"Did you bother to ask Bella what she wanted?" I ask, though it kills me to even say her name in his presence.

"Bella doesn't always know what's good for her," he answers wretchedly.

His words are like a dagger to the chest. Again, with the control. Who did he manipulate before she came along? "So she did want me there," I say accusingly.

"She did. I didn't. I don't like you, Jacob. I don't want you here now. And your thoughts are a jumbled mess, so I can't see the real reason you came. But I'm warning you now: stay away from her. Don't answer her calls, and don't call her. It sets her back when she speaks to you. I need her going forward, not looking back." He says this very calmly, but I can see that he's furious under his cool surface.

I don't care. And I'm proud that I can hide myself from the mind-reader. It's because I have lots of practice shielding myself when I'm running with the pack. None of this changes what he's just said to me, but I feel a little cocky that I've foiled the mighty vamp's extra sense.

"You're jealous. You're jealous of the relationship I have with her. You're jealous of our friendship. Don't try to deny it. I can see it in your face," I spit accusingly. "You'll never have the kind of relationship we have, Cullen. Forget it. She's only confused when you're there. When you're gone, she's thinking of me. And even when you're there," I lean close and drop my voice low. "She's thinking of me then, too."

My words make him flinch, and I know I've struck a nerve. That's all I wanted - all I've been trying for. I just want him to hurt like I do. To wonder if it's really him she wants, or if it's me. Just like I do - all day, every day.

"I can't tell you if you're right. But I can tell you to stay away from her. From us. Keep your distance, Jacob, I mean it."

"You have no control over me, leech. I'm not a little hundred pound girl that you can order around. I can kill you without thinking about it." I jab a finger in his face. "And if I think you're hurting her - _in any way_ - emotionally or otherwise, I _will _kill you. In fact, I'll enjoy it."

He laughs, but I can see I've gotten to him, at least a little bit. "I'd never hurt Bella," he says.

"You hurt her every day, you stupid shit," I say, turning away from him. I've given Bella a good fifteen minutes to talk to Charlie. I hope he's been able to get some info out of her, because I can't stand to be near the bloodsucker any longer. Without looking back, I walk away and toss this back at him: "Be careful, Cullen. One wrong move..." I continue around the back of the house, leaving him standing there at the end of the driveway, hands still jammed in his pockets, looking back at me.

I slide my pants off, tie them to my foot, and phase in an instant. I can sense the thoughts of Sam and Seth, and I silently pad over to them, still crouched under the window. I keep my thoughts silent. I want to hear what's going on in the kitchen.

"I told you, Dad, I don't know," Bella is saying. "I'm just saying - it might be hard for me to call that much."

"Well...well, that's ridiculous!" Charlie splutters. "Why wouldn't you be able to call your father whenever you want?"

"I think he feels like you might be a bad influence. He knows how much you like Jacob."

I turn my head quickly to the side and stare at Sam and Seth. "_What the fuck_?" is all I can think of to say. They remain silent in their thoughts.

I can see Charlie, and his face is red with anger. "I'm your _father_! How can I be a bad influence? Look, Bella, all I want is for you to be happy. If it's with Edward, great. But you don't seem happy. In fact, you seem miserable."

It's that minute that Cullen picks to walk back into the kitchen. He looks at Charlie, hurt. He walks over to Bella's chair and puts his hands on her shoulders possessively. Charlie is seething, his fists clenched at his sides. I almost wish he had his gun on him, but I don't know what a gun would do to a vamp. He points a finger at Cullen. "Look, you can't keep her from me, Edward. She's my daughter and I love her. If you keep her away from me, I'll make your life a living hell. Something stinks here. I want to hear from her regularly, I want to see her more than once a month, and I want her here when you're gone, you understand me, son? And if you won't do that, then I'll know why."

"Charlie, we're in a transitional stage right now," Cullen starts to explain, but Charlie cuts him off.

"I don't care," he starts, but Cullen is in charge. He talks over Charlie rudely.

"It's not you that I think is a bad influence, Charlie. It's that I can't control who she sees when she's here. I don't want Jacob Black coming around anytime she's visiting. I don't like the way he talks to Bella, or the way he treats her or...the way he_ looks _at her." Charlie has stopped ranting and is listening. Bella stares at her dad pleadingly. "I don't want him anywhere near her. That's the real reason Bella doesn't come over or call. I don't trust that man."

Charlie's brow furrows in a frown. "What's the matter, son? You're not afraid of a little competition, are you?" he asks.

"I'm her husband, Charlie. I have a right to limit who she spends her time with."

Charlie's flabbergasted. "You _what_?" he demands. "What the hell are you talking about? You don't have any such right. That's spousal abuse, that's what that is. I'm an officer of the law, I should know." His face has turned a shade of purple I've never seen. I think if he had his sidearm, Cullen would have a hole in his head right now.

But Bella has had enough. She bursts into tears and runs for the front door. Cullen moves to follow her, but Charlie grabs him by the arm. I know it would be easy for Cullen to rip his arm out of Charlie's grip, but above all he has to keep the secret. It's more important to them than anything else, including their relationships. He lets Bella go, and like lightning, I phase and put the sweats back on. I'm in front of the house before Bella gets to the door. Seth and Sam will get me up to speed on the Charlie/Cullen conversation.

I catch her as she flings herself out the door, straight into me. She's sobbing again, her little body wracked with convulsive tears. "Get me out of here," she chokes.

"Yeah," I say. For the third time in less than a half hour, I remove my sweats, tie them to my ankle, and phase to the wolf. I crouch down, she climbs on, and we take off through the woods.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** **Hi, friends, Happy Easter if you celebrate. Presenting Chapter 6 – hold on for kind of a bumpy ride. I hope you all like it. Thanks to everyone who has followed, favorited or REVIEWED! I will definitely be better at answering them now that things are a little less hectic in my life now. Sorry I've been so lax. I appreciate every single review – they inspire me!**

**Anything you recognize isn't mine, as usual. **

Chapter 6

It doesn't take long for me to get back to the reservation and my little shack. But when I get there, I see something I don't like at all, and I'm not exactly sure how to deal with it. Shea's car sits in front of my house. I can tell from the scent of the engine that she just pulled up, which means she's in there waiting for me and not yet sleeping. I trot to the clearing where I usually phase and let Bella off my back. Quickly, I phase back to human and pull my sweats back on. I'm not giving the nudity a second thought today - Bella's seen me naked before, and she's a married woman now anyway. The thought of that leech and her – together - well, it gives me the chills.

Bella sits in a ball on the forest floor, her back against the trunk of a tree. I crouch down and look at her eye to eye.

"What the fuck, Bells?" I ask.

"God, it's so good to see you," she says, completely ignoring me. "You have no idea." She stares at me like she's never seen me before.

"Bella, seriously. What the hell is going on?" I ask. I want to shake her.

"That's your girlfriend's car back there, isn't it?" she asks without taking her eyes off me. "I thought you guys broke up."

"We did. I think. But Bells," now I grab her upper arms and give her a little jerk. "Listen. What is going on with you?" I enunciate each word carefully, and she blinks as if she's just come out of a fog.

"What do you mean?" she asks with a confused expression.

"I mean, why is everything so crazy with you?"

She sighs and buries her face in her hands. "Oh, Jake," she moans, her voice muffled against her hands. "Things suck _sooo_ bad! You were right, you were so right."

"_I _was right?" I ask, distracted from her declaration by this. "How was _I_ right?"

"You told me it would suck if I got back with him. You were right."

"I did?" I mumbled. Maybe I did. But that wasn't the point. "Why does it suck so bad, Bells? What's the problem with you two?"

"Ugh. I can't talk about it. Jake, can't we go inside? I'm freezing."

"That's because you've lost about ten pounds," I mutter under my breath. Out loud, I say, "I think Shea's in there. I don't know if I want to cross that bridge now."

"Shea," she muses. "That's her name?"

"Yeah. Now come on. Tell me what's up." It's so hard to make her focus. What's _wrong_ with her?

She looks at me, her face serious and intense. "Don't you get it, Jacob? I can't _tell_ you what's wrong. I can't bring myself to put it into words." She continues to stare at me after she finishes talking and I see the desperation in her eyes. "I don't want to talk about it either. Can't I have a minute – just a _minute_ – where I don't have to discuss something or talk about something or analyze something? Please?"

Shit. Testy much? So basically Cullen is at her day and night to figure out what's wrong. Well, I won't be like that. I'll just wait and let her tell me in her own good time.

"Okay," I say, shrugging and standing up. She holds a hand up to me.

"Help me up?" she asks. I pull her to her feet and she starts for the house.

"Bells?" I say. "Like I said, seriously. I don't want to have to explain anything to Shea. Especially with you there."

"Well, I want to meet her," she says without stopping. I'm forced to catch up.

"Bells, I mean it," I tell her, hurrying to reach her. I'm not sure how Shea will react to Bella walking in with me, and I really don't want to find out.

"I said, I want to meet her, this girl who's captured you," she says.

I groan inwardly. I'm far from 'captured,' and I have no clue what sort of response I'm in for. To try to prepare Shea before Bella walks in, I get to the door before Bella and open it. Bella follows me in. Shea's not there, and I have a good idea where she is. Something she likes to do is get in bed, nude as usual, and wait for me. I'm sure that's where she is. I hope she doesn't decide that now is a good time to come out and greet me.

Bella looks around quizzically. "Where is she?" she asks.

"Well, the house has a grand total of five rooms," I answer. "So I'd guess she's probably in the bedroom or the bathroom."

"Well, let's go find her," she says, turning toward the back part of the house.

"Um, Bells?" I say, grabbing the back of her shirt. "She might not be…decent."

"Oh." Bella stops and turns back to me with a look on her face that looks a little…jealous? Is she jealous? Because if she is, that means that maybe she does still love me. Why would she have that look on her face when I'm talking about Shea otherwise? "Does she do that often?"

"Do what?" I ask, pretending not to understand so I can draw this moment out.

"Wait for you in bed…naked?"

I chuckle, thinking of how often Shea is naked in this house, and I can't resist giving Bella a little more to think about. After all, she's been married for two months, and I've been aching the entire time. "Shit yeah," I say casually. "She's waiting for me nude practically every time I come home."

Bella flinches and looks away, but she can't fool me - and now I feel bad that I've hurt her. I rush to apologize. "I'm sorry, Bells - that wasn't nice. I'm just... trying to get back at you or something. You've been married for two months – you're with that guy every day. I'm sure you're naked with him all the time," I blurt.

She looks at me quickly, almost furtively. Like I just figured out some secret. I pull her toward me by the hand and hold her face between my palms. "Bella? What is it?" I know I said I'd wait and let her tell me in her own good time, but I don't want to let this opportunity pass.

She stares up at me and her eyes fill quickly. "The only person who's ever seen me completely naked is you, Jake. Edward and I haven't done anything really…intimate…at all."

_What? _What is she talking about? They haven't…_done_ it? Is that what's wrong? That's the big mystery of the miserable marriage? Holy shit, that's crazy. That can't be what she means. I wrap her in my arms, pulling her close, feeling so, so bad for her. While I take a perverse joy in the fact that I'm still the only one that Bella's been with, I still feel bad for her like the pushover I am. I just don't want her to hurt. I hold her and she just melts into me, her hands clutching at my bare back.

And, of course, that's when Shea shows up. She's dressed in my bathrobe – and nothing else as far as I can tell.

"Oh…" she says, stalling as she crosses the threshold into the room. She recovers quickly though. "Ex_cuse _me. I thought I was at my _boy_friend's house."

I think to myself that this couldn't possibly get worse. I wonder why Shea's even here. I thought we'd broken up. Yeah, we had a tete-a-tete last night, but I don't recall a reconciliation. Maybe I'm being naïve, but just because I cried like a baby in her arms, I don't think that means we're back together.

I release Bella and turn toward Shea. She now sees that Bella's been crying and it changes her face. I see a look of sympathy flick across Shea's expression, and her shoulders slump. The fire leaves her eyes. "Shea, this is Bella," I say. "Bella, this is Shea."

They stare at one another. I know I haven't mentioned Bella's name to Shea, but I'm sure she's put two and two together. She knows Bella is my infamous ex.

"Hi, Shea," sniffs Bella, trying desperately to compose herself. I can tell she's nervous about meeting Shea. I'm not sure how Shea will treat Bella, and I'm tense until I hear Shea's response.

"Hello, Bella," she answers a little coldly. Well, that wasn't so bad. But now what? Shea saves me. "Jake, can I talk to you? Privately?" she asks.

"You'll be okay for a few minutes, Bells?" I ask, turning to Bella.

"Sure, go ahead," she says. Her cell phone buzzes then and she pulls it out and reads a text – which I'm sure is from her husband. I'm surprised, frankly, that it's taken him this long to contact her.

I follow Shea to my room, where the bed is rumpled from her lying in it waiting for me. She turns on me like a tornado. "What the hell is going on, Jake?" she hisses, whispering so Bella doesn't hear us.

"What are you even doing here?" I ask, not bothering to lower my voice. "We broke up, Shea."

"What?" she asks, completely taken aback. She's truly surprised. Uh oh. "When did we break up?"

"Uh…last night?" I say, raising one eyebrow. Was I unclear on the whole breakup? I think back. I don't recall actually saying that we were ending our relationship, and she did sleep here last night. Shit.

"_When_ last night?" she asks.

"At the restaurant," I tell her. "When you called Bella a bitch."

"That was us breaking up?" she asks, surprised and sad.

"_I_ thought so," I tell her. Her face looks so sad - I can't be a brutal as I think I should. I sigh. "Babe, listen...it's not fair to you. You're - seriously - way too good for me. I mean it. And I'm sick of feeling guilty for being such a shit to you."

"Wow," Shea says. "That all sounds really nice, but…but _shit_, Jake! I thought we had a moment last night. I thought we had a breakthrough."

I'm momentarily without words. But then I say, "Yeah, but that was after we were already broken up."

Shea is speechless. "You're serious?" she asks. "What's the deal? Your ex out there dumped her husband?"

"No, nothing like that," I'm quick to answer. "I just feel like this thing we have going has kind of run its course."

"I don't," Shea argues. Her face falls and I see that she's been struggling to keep up a brave demeanor. Despite her efforts, tears are forming in her eyes. "I love you, Jake," she chokes.

My instinct is to pull her in for a hug, but that would have the opposite effect. So I cross my arms over my chest and sigh. "Babe, I'm sure you think you love me. But you don't know how fucked up I am. If you did, your head would spin. Believe me, you want out of this. I'm not good for you. I'm not good for anyone right now."

She kind of curls into herself and continues to cry quietly. I hand her a tissue from the box on the dresser and she blows her nose. "Thanks," she says thickly. She recovers a little, wipes her eyes. Then she looks at me. "So I guess I was just a transitional person for you, huh? This was your filler relationship?" She sounds a little bitter. A little sarcastic.

"I'm sorry," is all I can think of to say. She wasn't a transition. She wasn't a place holder. She was just there when I needed someone, I guess. But I don't want to explain that. It's easier to just agree with her, let her think she's right. I want to let her go with some peace.

"Well, I'll miss you," she says, not looking at me. She turns toward the chair where she's left her clothes. "I'll just get dressed and leave. Call me tomorrow or something if you want." I know when I'm being dismissed. I pull the door open.

"Sorry," I say again, walking out and pulling the door shut behind me.

I go back out to Bella. She's sitting on the couch, looking just as miserable as she did when I left her. She's furiously texting someone, and I assume it's her bloodsucking husband. She looks up at me with big, sad eyes.

"Edward is losing it," she reports.

"Like I give a fuck," I spit. I'm pissed. I don't like the way I had to treat Shea. She didn't deserve it. And it was all because of that asshole Cullen. If it wasn't for him, I'd've never had the opportunity to meet Shea. I'd've been with Bells this whole time instead.

"He wants to come get me," she says anxiously.

"Let him try," I say shortly.

"You mean that?" she asks, her face worried.

I force a chuckle. "He'd get one foot over the border before we ripped him apart," I tell her. "Seth and Sam were at Charlie's. I'm sure they're watching him."

"Oh," she says. She texts something to him, probably a warning. He knows better than to come on our land though. He's just saying that to her for effect. The phone buzzes back immediately and she glances at it and makes a face.

"Want me to take you back?" I ask.

"No," she answers a little too quickly.

"So what are you gonna do then?"

"Can I stay? Just for tonight?" she asks pathetically.

Shea comes into the room then, fully dressed all the way down to her shoes and jacket. She's filled an overnight bag with what looks like her bathroom stuff and a few other odds and ends. "I'll get the rest of my things next week, okay?" she says as she passes through the living room to the kitchen. "I'll call first so we won't have to see each other." Her tone is still bitter and I can't blame her. I nod, following her to the back door. She turns at the last minute, her hand on the knob.

"Bye, Jake," she says. I can't help it. I put my arms around her and she hugs me too, but I can tell she's holding back. "Let me know if you change your mind," she whispers too low for Bella to hear. I nod so I don't have to talk. There's a lump in my throat that's kind of blocking my words.

I shut the door behind her and turn back to Bella. "You can stay as long as you want," I tell her in answer to her question. "You know Billy's room is empty – you can sleep in there."

She looks at me for a second, seeming to consider something. Then she says, "Can't I sleep with you? We don't have to do anything. I just want to be…warm for a change."

I'm stunned that she asked so it takes me a second to reply. Abruptly I remember what she told me earlier, that she and the leech haven't closed the deal yet. Maybe a dark bedroom, a comfy bed, and some alone time with me will draw her out. "Yeah, sure," I say. "You should probably let your husband know, though. And maybe your dad."

"I already told Edward," she answers. "But you're right, let me call Charlie."

She touches her phone a few times and holds it to her ear. "Dad?" she says. I can hear his voice on the other end, though I can just barely make out his words.

"Bella, where are you? Are you okay? Seth Clearwater and Sam Uley were here. They said you left with Jake." Charlie sounds frantic and angry.

"Yeah, Dad, sorry. I'm with Jake now. We're at his place."

"Did you happen to call your husband?" he asks.

"I told him," she says dismissively. "I just wanted to let you know I'm staying in La Push tonight."

"Okay," Charlie agrees surprisingly easily. "Make sure Edward knows. I don't want any trouble."

"He knows. He won't cause any problems," she says with certainty. I wish I were as confident in the bloodsucker's ability to restrain himself, but I guess she knows him better than I do.

"Okay, call me if you need anything," Charlie says. I'm seriously surprised at Charlie's willingness to let Bella spend the night here with me. She's a married woman, and I don't think that's something Charlie takes lightly. On the other hand, he did have an opportunity to talk to Cullen after Bella ran out. Maybe he's got a new perspective on things because of that.

She puts the phone down and looks up at me. I don't have to pretend with Bella that I didn't hear Charlie on the phone. I don't have to pretend with her about anything except how much I love her. Well, maybe not even that. I grin. "Good old Charlie," I say. "Your phone." I hold my hand out and she gives it to me. While her hand is still outstretched, I grab it with my other hand and pull her up. While I wrap her in my arms, I look over her shoulder at the phone and quickly read through the last few texts from that leech.

_'If you stay there, I can't promise you that I'll be here when you return.'_

_'I guess that's a chance I'll take.'_

_'Bella, what's gotten into you?'_

_'Nothing, Edward. Nothing has gotten into me. At all.'_

_'I'm trying, love.' _

_'I'll see you tomorrow.'_

I turn the phone off. She doesn't need to hear from him, at least not any more tonight. I pull her back to my room and sit her down on the bed. But when I go to shut off the light, she stands up. "Um…do you care if we leave the light on?"

"Why?" I ask.

"I just…I don't like the dark," she says.

"Since when?" I ask, confused. "We always used to sleep in the dark.

"I know," she says. "But I don't want to tonight."

I sigh and agree. "Okay, but I won't be able to sleep much," I say reluctantly.

"I don't think we'll be doing much sleeping," she says. I look at her quickly. Does she mean…? But no. She's looking at me all serious, and I know that look. It will be a night of deep conversation – and no sleep.

I hear a knock at the kitchen door. Bella looks at me quickly. "Who's that?" she asks, alarmed.

"I don't know," I shrug. "I'll go see." I turn toward the door.

"Wait!" she says, starting to panic. "What if it's Edward?"

I turn back. "Bella what did I tell you? Edward wouldn't make it this far from the border of the rez. The pack would've taken him down by now and he knows it. It's not Edward." I turn back toward the kitchen and leave Bella on the bed.

It's Sam and Seth at the door. "She here?" asks Sam when I open the door.

"Yeah?" I said questioningly.

"She needs to go home," Sam says menacingly.

"She will. Eventually," I answer. "And I'll be here tomorrow morning. You can come by and tell me what went on tonight then."

"You give us your word that she'll go home tomorrow?" Sam asks, relenting from his hardass stance a little.

"I didn't say tomorrow," I answer. "But she will go back to the crypt when she's ready, if that's what you mean." In my mind, I know she probably will go back tomorrow. She did tell Cullen via text that she'd see him tomorrow. But I don't want to make promises for her.

I can see that Sam wants to ask a follow up question, but Seth puts a hand on his shoulder and says, "Let's give them some time to talk, Sam." Sam's face changes and he nods.

"Okay. But don't do anything dumb, Jake. She's his wife whether you like it or not."

"Yeah, I know," I say, still leaning on the door frame. "Anything else?"

"If it means anything, Charlie's doing a little better," Seth volunteers.

I'm glad of that, at least. I'm dying to know what happened, but I want to talk to Bella more, so I hold off asking. We'd be here all night dissecting the subtle nuances of every utterance tonight otherwise. "It does, thanks," I answer. "Now if that's all you've got, I have to get back to someone who needs help, okay?"

They both nod, looking a little embarrassed. I wonder why, but only in passing. I do need to get back to her. Already I feel like I've been away too long. Seth says, "Good luck," and turns away, and Sam follows.

Good luck? Now I see why they're embarrassed - they think Bells and I - do they really think I'd do that with a married woman, especially in the emotional state she's in now? What kind of guy do they think I am? I almost smile on my way back to the bedroom.

When I get there, I see she's taken the opportunity to dig out one of my t-shirts which she's now wearing with just her panties. I blink rapidly taking in the scene. She had her ankles crossed and she's leaning against the headboard, on top of the covers. Ugh, if she stays like that, I might live up to Seth and Sam's expectations.

"Thought you were cold," I say, looking away. There's a chair against the wall and I sit on it. I don't trust myself to touch the bed with a ten foot pole.

"Oh," she says. She figures it out immediately. "Sorry, Jake," she says, sliding her legs under the blanket and arranging it around herself modestly. "I'm not used to having anyone see me like this."

I know this, but I can't resist asking. "Because he doesn't sleep, right?"

She nods. "Right," she says. "He doesn't even come in the room anymore when I'm sleeping. I told him it creeps me out."

"Why?" I ask, though what I really want to say is, 'It's about time.' Fuckin stalker.

She shrugs her skinny little shoulders. "I don't know," she says. She's silent for a second, and then she sighs.

"Bells, I gotta tell ya, you look like shit. What the hell?"

"I know," she says. She draws her knees up and leans on them, hugging her thighs. "I feel like I'm just so tired."

"Why? They putting you to work?" I joke lamely.

"No, Jake, they're as nice as they can be. It's almost worse." She looks at me with those haunted brown eyes. I need to know what's causing her to look like that. "If they were nastier to me, this whole thing would be easier."

"What whole thing?" I ask, choking back the rage I feel when I hear her say that she would prefer nastier treatment. What the hell is wrong with her?

She sighs, long and dramatic. "I have a hard decision to make," she says. I just watch her silently. "Whether or not...to leave."

I want to jump up and down and hoot and holler. But I stay seated, remain calm. I don't want to influence her in any way. This has to be her decision. If I influence her at all, I'm taking a big risk - so I shut my mouth and arrange my face in sympathetic lines. "Leave?" I ask, all businesslike.

"Leave Edward. That's what I'm trying to decide," she says, looking away now. She picks idly at the blanket.

Okay, I can't hold off any more. I have to ask. "Bella, please. Tell me what is so wrong with this relationship that you look so miserable, that you say it sucks so much, and that you want to leave two months in."

Her eyes meet mine, and I see the agony in them, the despair. She wants to tell me. So what's holding her back?

"I can't really say," she says, and her voice is low and soft. "I'm_ married_ to him, Jake. I can't badmouth him."

Oh. I see. She feels a loyalty to Cullen. How cliché; how very _Bella_ of her. We'll see about that. "Bells, we're best friends. What are friends for if not to help one another through problems?" I say.

"Are we still friends, Jake? I thought after...after I didn't invite you to the wedding - didn't even _tell_ you about it - that you might consider our friendship ended." There's anguish in her face now, like even the thought of losing my friendship would cause her heartache.

And for awhile after I heard about the wedding - until just recently, actually - I really did feel like our friendship was over. How could someone claiming to be your best friend get married and not even tell you? But I see now that there were extenuating circumstances. Cullen forced her hand. I couldn't blame Bella for this. And I wouldn't even if it _were_ her fault. I'm that much of a doormat for her. I love her too much.

"You'll always be my friend, Bella," I tell her. "I wish I had the power to write you off, honey, but I can't. I never will." That's the God's honest truth.

"I don't deserve you," she says, and it rings a bell because it's the gist of what I said to Shea less than an hour ago. Bella's right - she doesn't deserve to have me love her like I do. But I can't change it.

"I know," I sigh in a joking manner, and I get her to smile. "But seriously, Bells. You have to tell me. How can I help if I don't know what's wrong?" I'm still trying to get her to admit what's so horrific in the marriage that she wants to leave after two months. I don't know why I want to know so badly. I just do.

"You can't do anything anyway, Jake. Even if you did know." She's sad again, and I hate it. That's why I have to know, I realize. So I can fix what's bothering her and get that look off her face. So I decide to take a chance. This might close her off even further, but it might get her to talk, too.

"You said before...about being intimate. Is that it?" I ask gently, carefully.

She looks at me with that same look she had earlier – when I said something the first time, like I know something I shouldn't. "It is, isn't it?" I prompt.

I didn't think the impact of a hundred pounds could knock me off a chair, but it does. She's in my arms before I can tell what happened, and we're both on the floor. She's sobbing uncontrollably. I guess I've struck a nerve.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, honey," I croon softly. "It's okay, it's okay." I anxiously try to calm her down. She's hysterical – she's gone from zero to sixty in a split second. I try to catch up. "Okay, settle down, Bells. You can't talk if you're crying like this."

This gets her to calm somewhat. She tries hard to control herself, gasping, "It just sucks so much, Jake. It just sucks." I continue to comfort her, holding her and stroking her hair, her back, trying to soothe her. Finally the trembling diminishes, and she lies in my arms, hiccuping with each breath.

"You better?" I ask. She nods. "Okay. Now come on. You'll feel better if you talk about it, Bells." I struggle to sit up and reach for the Kleenex box on the dresser without letting go of her. Handing her a handful, I say, "Here. Now tell me what's wrong."

She takes the tissues, blows her nose and mops her face. She looks worse than before now, her eyes and lips swollen and her nose red, but to me she's beautiful no matter what. My heart aches with tenderness for her. She rests her head on my bare chest and starts her story.

"It started before we got married," she begins haltingly. "He and I had a bargain." Her voice becomes bitter. "We made a deal. I said I'd marry him if he'd try...having sex with me on our wedding night." She glances at me with trepidation. "Because at the time, I was going to let him change me after that."

I have to concentrate _very hard_ not to lose it right then. I'd rip his motherfucking throat out if he did that to her. Even if she_ did_ want it. And then I'd have to rip her throat out too. I know she doesn't want that anymore, but the idea...just the_ idea_ that she did at one point and he considered it...it sets me shimmering for the phase. I clench my fists and take a deep breath. All Bella knows is that I've tensed up. She stops. "Can you hold it together?" she asks softly.

"Yeah, I got it," I say. No sense hiding how pissed off I am after hearing this. Still...it's Bells. I can't be mad at her. I blame the bloodsucker.

"Okay," she says, resting her head back down again. "So we were supposed to try. But the night of the wedding, he said no, that we'd try the next day because according to him, I'd had a long day and I was too tired." She glances back again, checking if I'm listening.

Like I could ignore her if I tried.

"So the next day, he had another excuse, and the day after that...well, you get the idea. He never had any intention of trying. So he got me to marry him, but he didn't come through on his part of the bargain. He double crossed me. And I don't trust him anymore."

"Okay, wait," I say. "Your deal was you'd marry him if he'd try. Did he try?"

She bites her lip and hides her face even more. I feel her breath on my skin as she whispers, "He _says_ it's trying."

"He says _what's_ trying?" I ask, mystified.

"What he's doing," she says evasively.

I'm getting pissed. Jesus, just tell me already! "What's he doing?" I ask menacingly.

"He says he's trying to...prepare me..." She trails off. I feel a wave of nausea wash over me. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

"Bells, it's me. You can tell me anything. I've seen every inch of you - you have nothing to hide from me." I'm trying to get this out of her so I'll have the impetus to kill that motherfucker.

She takes a breath and sighs it out. "He says he's...very cold...so there's a lot of ice involved." I can feel her heart pounding, and she's trembling again. "And he says he's...big." She huddles into me further. "So he wants to stretch me..."

Is she saying what I think she's saying? I feel dizzy. She can't be trying to tell me that he's doing all of this to her...intimate parts - can she? I don't say a word. He's stretching her? Freezing her? What the fuck...?

"And the worst thing, Jake," she says, continuing. The worst? It gets worse? "The worst is when he actually tries, after all this elaborate preparation. Most of the time, it's just prep-work, hours a day, _all_ day. But when he actually _tries_, he wants me to lie really still, because he says if I move it might make him lose focus. And I just lie there..." She starts crying again, tiny little sobs of torment. "And he tries to..."

Okay, I can't take this, I can't listen. "Okay, Bells, I get it," I say, stopping her. "You don't have to say any more. I see." I want to tell her that it's making me sick to my stomach, but I can't say it. I want her to be able to talk to me about it if she wants and not think I'm wierded out. I had no idea it was this bad.

I want to scream at her, "Why are you putting yourself through this? He's a sick, disgusting pervert! What is wrong with you?" But one look at her tear-stained face shuts me up. She's been living with this situation, this torture, for two solid months. So instead I just hold her and rock her, crooning in her ear around the lump in my throat that everything will be okay.

She rests her head against my chest and quietly weeps until it seems she's all cried out. This takes a long time, or at least it seems like a long time, but then she actually appears to be a little better. It's like she's gotten it off her chest and some of the despondent look in her eyes starts to disappear.

"So now you know," she finally says, her voice heavy with the crying.

"God, I'm so, so sorry Bells," I murmur softly, still stroking her hair.

She's quiet for a few minutes, then she says in a rush, "God, it's so embarrassing!"

"What is, honey?" I ask her. "Telling me or having to go through it?"

"Telling you," she says promptly. "When I'm going through it, it's dark in the room, it's quiet. Sometimes I can blank my mind and…get away."

Ah. So that's why she won't let me turn off the light. I remember reading in Psych about abuse and how people make these elaborate escape rituals that involve 'getting away.' It reminds me of that classic multiple-personality book, Sybil, about the little girl who had so many personalities because her mother was abusive and her mind developed all these other people to help her 'get away.' I wish I hadn't thought of that. It scares the shit out of me.

I know I said I wouldn't say anything to influence her. I know. But I can't let her stay in a place that's so unhealthy for her, so mentally harmful. To think I was feeling sorry for that son-of-a-bitch Cullen earlier.

"Bella, you can't stay in a situation like that," I tell her. "In fact, you should probably go get some help somewhere. What he's doing to you is…wrong." 'Wrong' seems like such a mild word for what he's doing. Warped. Twisted. Deviant. Those are the words I want to use. But I don't want to scare her.

"He's trying to…give me what I want." She sighs against my chest, and this time I can't hold back.

"Why would you _defend _him?" I explode. "How could he think anything like that would help? And how could you _want_ something that involves so much…pain and abuse?"

I'm surprised at how calm she stays. Almost like she expected me to blow up at her.

Oh. Yeah. I guess I'm a little volatile.

But come on! Who wouldn't react like this? What she's described to me…it's just sick.

"Because I love him, Jake. He really is trying. He hates it too, but he thinks it's necessary." I try to think about that, try to be objective. Yes, Cullen looked like shit when I saw him. It probably is killing him to do this to her – he doesn't want to hurt her any more than I do. It's not like he's getting anything out of it. He really does think this is the proper way to go about readying her for the onslaught of vampire sex. He's still trying not to kill her.

I pull her away and look into her face, more swollen now than it was before. I've come to a decision myself. "Okay, look, Bells. I'm probably crazy. But here goes. If you want, and if he agrees – and you know how much I hate him so it's killing me to even include his opinion here – I could try to help – this is gonna sound bad, Bells – try to help break you in for him."

She blinks like she doesn't understand. "What?" she finally asks.

"At least it would get you away from the constant poking," I say, realizing too late the double meaning of the word.

She makes a face, looks like she thinks I'm nuts. "No, Jake, that's…that's fucked up."

Nice language, Bells. How can she think _that's _fucked up compared to what _he's _doing to her?

"Yeah, I'm fucked up and your leech is normal," I say, disgusted.

She starts laughing. It has a slightly hysterical tinge to it, but she's actually laughing. I just look at her and shake my head. The laughter is catching, and pretty soon we're both cracking up, giggling like schoolgirls. She's gasping for air after a few minutes of full out guffaws.

"Oh my God, Jake, you're so funny sometimes." She's still wheezing with laughter. "Wow, it feels so good to laugh. Seems like it's been months."

I'm still recovering too, but I say, "I wasn't trying to be funny, Bells."

"I know. But the look on your face," she says, giggling again.

I'm only a little hurt that she's laughing at my attempt to help her. Maybe it is kind of fucked up, to use her phrasing, but it's all I can think of. "I bare my soul to you and tell you I'll help, and the thanks I get is laughter," I say jokingly. "The proper response is to fling yourself into my arms and say, 'Yes, Jake, what a wonderful idea!'" I realize that seeing her laugh feels so good that I want more.

It works; she laughs harder. Pretty soon she's just a mess on the floor, overcome with hilarity.

"I'll tell you what," she finally says. "Let's get to bed. We can actually sleep. I feel so much better getting that off my chest, I mean it Jake. You were so right – I feel like I'm ten pounds lighter!"

I refrain from commenting that she probably is _at least_ ten pounds lighter, and pull her up by the hand. "Okay," I say. "Do you need a toothbrush or anything?"

"Do you have an extra?" she asks.

"I do, only because Shea forgot hers so many times that I just bought a family pack," I answer. I don't know why that's come up – or from where it surfaced. Shea just pops into my mind for some reason. I turn away before Bella can see my face. I don't think I've properly let go of my relationship with Shea – the relationship that, ironically, I insisted I didn't have. I dig the package of toothbrushes out from under the sink and leave them on the bathroom counter. I do my toothbrushing thing, then go back to the bedroom and tell her the bathroom's all hers.

I lay in my bed thinking of Shea. The sheets still smell like her shampoo, her cologne, her scent. I realize I miss having her there, wrapping her long soft legs around my torso. I think about her pretty face, that classic profile, that long blond hair trailing over the pillow. Those lips. Was it only sex with her? Or was there a bigger thing that I ignored because I'm so caught up with Bella?

Bella comes back in the room then, and I put the thoughts of Shea away for later. I'll think about it when Bella's not around. Maybe I will call Shea tomorrow, like she suggested. Pushing her out of my mind, I watch as Bella climbs into bed and gets under the covers. She snuggles up to me and her whole body is like ice, freezing my whole left side that she's cuddled against.

I start to say something to her about how cold her skin is, but I stop myself. Poor kid's been through enough. Instead of saying anything to her, I wrap my arm around her and pull her in to me so her head's resting on my pecs again. I'm thinking that being next to me will warm her up pretty quick.

She's sound asleep before I know it. I watch her for awhile, just enjoying the fact that I'm in bed with her again, as flawed as it may be. Sure, she's married to someone else. We can't actually do anything. I don't care, though. I'm so happy right now I don't know what to do with myself.

"Jake?" she says.

"What, Bells?" I answer. But she says nothing else.

"Jake…" she says again.

"I'm right here, honey," I reassure her. Again, no response. I look at her curiously. What does she want?

She's asleep, I realize. She's talking in her sleep, just like she always does. I shut up and listen.

"I love you, Jake," she says. She says it quietly, but she definitely says it.

I fall asleep with a smile on my face.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: It's SUNDAY! And you know what that means! So here's Chapter 7 - hope you like it. Thanks for the reviews and the favoriting and the following of me and my story(ies). Love you guys - and enjoy!**

Chapter 7

Unbeknownst to me, while I lay sleeping with his wife curled up on my shoulder, Cullen is beside himself, pacing the border of the Quileute Nation like a cat in a cage. He knows better than to set foot in our boundary, but he wants to so bad he can taste it. The pack is aware, but they're hanging back because they _want_ him to step over the line. When he does, they have leave to take his head off. If I were there when this was happening, I would have warned him. But I'm busy sleeping with Bella, so I don't get the opportunity.

My first inkling of the problem that's going on at the perimeter of our land is Seth, knocking at my bedroom window. Bella is so sound asleep that she doesn't even move as I slide out from under the covers. Was it only two nights ago that I did this same thing lying next to Shea so I could answer Bella's phone call? Jeez, it seems like two weeks. So much has happened.

I go to the window and motion to Seth to go to the kitchen door. Making sure the window is securely locked, not that it would keep Cullen out if he really wanted to get in, I slither out the bedroom door and meet Seth in the kitchen.

"S'up bro?" I say, shaking his hand.

"Okay, Jake, don't freak out," Seth says with a worried look on his face. "The leech is on the border. He hasn't actually stepped over, but he's itching to get in. What do you want us to do?"

See, this is where I don't want the stupid Alpha thing. I hate being in charge of my pack. I don't like to be the one making decisions. But I'm it, by birth no less, so there's no getting away from it.

"What are you doing now?" I ask.

"Quil and Leah are there," he says, referring to one of my best friends, Quil, and the lone female wolf in either pack, Leah. "They're phased, so he knows better than to try to come in."

"He alone?" I ask tersely, thinking.

"So far as we can tell," Seth answers.

"What about Sam?" I ask. I'm sure Sam knows what's going on, and though I'm not in any way in charge of his wolves, I still want to know where they are.

"He knows what's going on," Seth supplies. "He has Paul and Jared patrolling right now."

What Seth means is that two of Sam's pack members are running the borders, checking for other bloodsuckers. While I'm glad he's being proactive, I don't agree with wasting them patrolling. They should be here, guarding my place, since this is where Bella is. I know there's no love lost between Sam and Bella, but it's not like any of the Cullens would attack - they just want Bella back.

My mind races. If Cullen or any of his coven get through, they're coming straight here, and Sam has to know that. I don't like the idea of going back to bed when the threat of incoming vamps is imminent. And the bedroom has more than one point of entry; the window and the door. I can't be on guard outside both.

"Where is Sam?" I ask Seth.

"Far as I know, he's out there too," Seth answers.

Shit.

Well, the only thing for me to do is to phase. I don't like leaving Bella here, especially with two ways to get into the room she's in. I don't want to wake her up to make her move either. She needs her sleep; poor kid's like a zombie. And Seth is only one person. He can phase and wait in my room, just in case, while I phase and try to talk to Sam. See, the pack mind only works with my pack, but Sam and I, as Alphas, can communicate in a semi-limited way while we're both phased.

Stupid fuckin vamp! Why can't he just let her alone for one night?

Well, she is his wife. But still.

"Okay, here's what we're doing then," I say. "We're both gonna phase. Then you'll stay _in the room_ with Bella, got that? I'm going to try to talk to Sam, get him to bring Paul and Jared here to patrol my place. I'll go talk to Cullen." This last part kills me, because of what Bella's told me, but I can't see any way around it. I'm guessing he won't leave until he knows Bella's safe, and the only way he can find that out for sure is to talk to me.

"Okay," Seth agrees. He's a good soldier, always takes orders without question. I wouldn't really classify this as an _order_ but...you know what I mean.

"Okay, phase outside so you don't wreck Billy's kitchen," I tell Seth. "I'm gonna check on Bells, and then I'll let you in. Do a lap around the place, will ya?"

He nods and leaves the way he came in. I silently creep back to my room and ease the door open. The light's on so I can see clearly that Bella's still sound asleep and hasn't moved an inch.

Okay. My mind's at ease now. I leave the door slightly ajar for Seth, since he won't be able to open it as a wolf, and go to the kitchen to let him in.

He's waiting and seems calm, and while I can't detect any scent of leech in the neighborhood, I'm pretty sure he didn't see anything out of the ordinary on his lap around my property either. I nod at him. "I'm gonna lock the door behind me," I tell him. "When I get back, phase back and let me in." His big shaggy head nods once and I leave, locking the door as promised.

Once outside, I undress - still only wearing those dirty sweats - and shimmer down into the wolf. Immediately I can hear the thoughts of everyone in my pack, but nothing from Sam. I communicate the plan to Leah and Quil, and let Seth know I'm leaving. Seth lets me know that everything's fine with Bella, so I take off double speed to find Sam.

After only a few minutes of sending out a signal, Sam answers me. He's on the north corner of the border, only a few miles away, running patrol just like Seth thought. I relay my worries to him, and to my surprise he volunteers to have Paul and Jared patrol my place. He knows their best chance of catching a vamp is wherever Bella is. Chick's a virtual bloodsucker magnet.

I let Sam know I'm going to talk to Cullen. He doesn't seem to think that's a good idea.

"_Jacob, I don't think you know what he's capable of when it comes to Bella. He's completely out of his mind," _Sam thinks.

_"I'm pretty sure I do," _I tell Sam calmly. "_I_ _heard what he said at Charlie's about controlling who she sees. I know he's crazy."_ Of course, now I know more that I'm not telling him. Things that are too unspeakable to think about, let alone mention. I'm glad he can only read the parts of my mind that I'm letting him see.

_"Thanks for putting Paul and Jared on the job_," I tell him. _"I'm going to talk to Cullen. You're welcome to come if you want._"

"_I think I'll keep up the patrol, in case any more of the coven shows up." _It's a reasonable worry, so I agree with him and take off.

I can tell from the thoughts of Leah and Quil that Cullen is still pacing along the border. He hasn't moved from the road where they first saw him a few hours ago, probably just about the time Bella talked to her dad on the phone. Leah's nervous - she hates the bloodsuckers more than most of us do - but Quil is okay and he's keeping her under control. I'm sure Cullen knows they're near from their scent, but so far no one has made contact.

It occurs to me that I didn't bring my pants, and I'm just a little frustrated at that. Now if I decide to phase, I'll have to stand there nude in front of him. That can be humiliating. But I can spin it the other way too, be all cocky - no pun intended - and sure of myself and make him the uncomfortable one. Yep, that's what I'll do.

I relay a question to Seth, "_How is she_?"

"_Hasn't moved a muscle. Poor thing's dead tired_."

"_No bloodsuckers hanging around_?" I confirm.

"_Not a one_," he answers cheerfully.

I fill him in on the fact that Paul and Jared will be around soon. "_You're about ten minutes late, bro_," Seth informs me. "_They're already here_."

"_Good,_" I think. I'm coming up on Cullen now. I let Quil and Leah know they can stand down, and move slowly into his line of vision.

As soon as he sees me, his ultra-quick vampire reflexes have him literally inches from my jaws. "Where is she?" he snarls. "You left her_ alone_, mongrel?" Despite his vicious demands, he's very careful to stay on his side of the treaty line. It says a lot about the crazy bloodsucker in front of me.

"_She's fine. Sound asleep with the light on_." I can't resist the dig. I let my mind wander - I think of what Bella told me earlier. His face changes. It's pained - and furious.

"What did you do to her to get her to tell you that?" he spits, enraged.

I'm incredulous. I decide now is a good time to phase back, and I stand up on my hind legs – no easy feat for a wolf my size - and let the wolf go. I sneer at him pompously as he peers up at my disgusted expression. I get right in his face, just like he did to me. "What did _I _do to her? Not a thing. She wanted to tell me. She hates it. She's starting to hate you," I tell him.

He knows I'm lying about that last part, but I don't care. If I can plant the smallest seed of doubt in him, it will be worth whatever celestial punishment is in store for me. I strut back and forth along the border, and I can tell he's uncomfortable with my nudity. Freaking Puritan.

I don't care. In fact, I like that he's irritated. I don't feel awkward in any way – I'm used to walking around nude in the forest. I deliberately turn toward him, so he can see me in all my glory. He thinks _he's_ big? He doesn't know what big is. And Bells was able to handle it – though he still doesn't know that and won't find out from me if I can help it.

To prevent the thoughts I'm about to have regarding Bells and I last summer, I think again about what the hell he could be doing to her with ice – and what the hell could he be stretching her with? I feel nauseated all over again. God, he's a twisted fuck!

I can sense the disgust regarding what Cullen's doing to Bella emanating from Quil, Leah and Seth, but not a growl or a whine comes from any of them. Cullen can tell too and he looks down at the pavement, suffering plain in his face.

"I don't know what else to do," he whispers brokenly.

Does he expect me to feel sorry for him?

"No," he answers my thought annoyingly. "But I'm afraid, Jacob. I'm afraid to give her what she wants. I'm afraid I'll kill her."

God, I'm glad he can read my musings. Because at this point I think it's an easy, logical decision for him. Leave. Get out. I'll take over from here.

He meets my eye with loathing. "Of course that's what you think. Always the easy way out for you, isn't it, dog?"

"Easy way out? Is that what you think this is? There's nothing easy about this, vamp," I say viciously. "Especially not for the girl you profess to love but who you continue to hurt."

He's immediately contrite. "You're right, and fair is fair. Nothing here is easy for either of us," he concedes. But that's not enough for me.

"And you're wrong, leech. The solution _is_ for you to leave. It won't be easy for her and it won't be easy for you, but the decision itself is easy. Leave."

"So _you_ can claim her?" he snarls. "At least with me she has a home, opportunities. With you she'll live destitute on a disgusting spur of land with a pack of wailing hounds, all waiting to rip her face off at the first chance."

Oh no he didn't just start in on my people. "Where the fuck do you get off, bloodsucker? You can't even fuck your own wife because you're afraid you'll kill her! I've never hurt Bella the way you have!" I shoot back at him. "And don't you dare malign the Quileute Nation. Treaty or no, I'll rip your cocksucking head off."

"Lovely language, Jacob," he intones, all superior.

"The fact remains that you made a mistake, leech. You should leave her, let her heal." I ignore his lame-ass comment on my phrasing. I'll show you foul-mouthed, fucker.

"I gave her my word I'd never leave her again," he says, dejected.

"So break your word. You're a fuckin vampire for Chrissake. You spend your days killing living things. A little renege on your part is pretty much part of your character." I fold my arms over my bare chest and puff out a little. Yeah, I'm annoying the ever-lovin' shit out of him.

"I spend my days killing living things?" he spits. "You're so above it all? You never eat meat?" he asks savagely. Typical bullshit rant of a monster – trying to somehow justify the disgusting way he lives his pathetic excuse for a life.

"I don't waste entire carcasses. My people don't have the luxury of that extravagance," I say loftily. I'm repulsed by his implication.

This seems to shut him up. I gather my wits, remembering why I'm here in the first place - for Bella. I consciously center myself, taking a deep breath and letting go of the anger and frustration I feel in his presence.

"Listen, Cullen, she's fine for tonight. She needs some time away. A break. Just give her a little room. She said she'd see you tomorrow," I say deliberately, slowly so he'll get it.

I can almost feel him pawing through my head as I remember Bella curled up against my shoulder. "Don't you dare touch her!" he snarls suddenly.

"Ha!" I say derisively. "I'd never touch her after what you've been doing to her, you disgusting parasite," I match and exceed the vitriol he's spewing. "Unlike you, I truly want what's best for her. Go home."

"I'm going," he says. "You'll tell her I love her?"

I roll my eyes and huff a laugh. "I'll relay the message," I say sarcastically. I stand there, arms folded over my chest, nude. I can feel a kind of swagger as I stand there, kind of an egotistical enjoyment of the situation. I've pushed him away successfully. Even though I can't do anything with married Bella, I can still cuddle up to her all night and take some contentment in the fact that _I'm_ the one comforting her.

"Thank you," he says, turning away.

When he's a good way down the road and I'm pretty sure I'm out of range of his sixth sense and his vampire ears, I tell Leah and Quil to keep up the patrol for the night. I don't trust him not to return with his coven and try to kidnap my girl. Meanwhile I phase and get word to Seth that I'm on my way back and he assures me that Bella is still sleeping, none the wiser. I breathe a sigh of relief. It worked.

As I run back home, I send out a signal for Sam, who answers me immediately.

"_What's the story_?" he demands.

"_I sent the bloodsucker home_," I tell him. "_Quil and Leah are gonna patrol through the night though. I doubt they'll come out tomorrow – it's supposed to be sunny_."

"_Good_," he thinks. "_You heading back now_?" The nature of the Alpha communication only allows Sam to hear what I want him to; he can't see where I am like I can see where my pack members are.

"_Yeah_," I tell him. "_You can call Paul and Jared off. I'll have Seth do patrols around my place_."

"_That's okay, I'll leave Jared there. Seth can take a breather_," Sam informs me generously.

"_Thanks, Sam. I appreciate it_." Sam knows that I'd rather not have my whole pack out all night if I don't have to. Having Embry gone at college is tough on my other pack members. Sam has four members besides himself, and so did I up until September. Embry got a scholarship, though. Can't really argue with that. Now I'm down a man and he still has Colin and Brady in reserve. He can afford to leave a member or two out all night. I don't have the same luxury.

"_No problem_," he thinks, and then he blinks out on me. He must be communicating with his pack. I continue through the woods until I see my little house through the trees. It looks so peaceful from here, the window of my room shining like a beacon. There's no way anyone would think there was so much turmoil within those four walls.

"_Seth, I'm back. Sam says he'll leave Jared here so you can go home_," I tell him. _"Phase back and let me in."_

Seth is at the door, bare-ass naked, in a few seconds. Tying my sweats, I push past him. "Put some pants on," I say with a laugh.

Seth comes back in dressed a few minutes later. "Wow, that Edward and Bella thing is fucked up, huh?" he says.

"Fucked up doesn't even begin to cover it," I remark wryly. "That guy is one twisted dude."

Seth shakes his head as if to jar the thought out of it. "Creep," he says under his breath.

"Exactly," I agree. "Now I'm going back to bed and I want you to go home and get some sleep, okay?"

"Okay," he agrees readily. I lock the doors behind him and nod at Jared from the window where I can see him lurking in the trees. I feel better just knowing he's out there. It means I'll be able to sleep.

I ease back into my room and Bella turns over. "Is everything okay?" she asks sleepily. My heart softens just looking at her. She seems so young and innocent lying there, all drowsy and bedheaded.

"Yep, go back to sleep," I tell her. She blinks up at me, letting her eyes adjust to the light.

"You're coming back to bed, right?" she asks.

"Yep," I say, lifting the covers and sliding in. She shuffles right on over to me, putting her head on my shoulder just like she had it before. I put my arm around her again and pull her even closer. Just having her nearby soothes me like nothing else ever could.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Okay, so here's Chapter 8 - only two more to go. I'm sort of sad about this tho, because I really like this story - but one the tale is told there's nothing else to say, right? Right. So here you go, feel free to review, thanks to all who have in the past, and to everyone who's followed and favorited. Anything you recognize isn't mine. Enjoy!**

Chapter 8

She sleeps nine hours, deeply and soundly. I get up at a reasonable hour, glad for the fact that I don't have to work today. I cook a big breakfast for her since she looks so underfed. I sit at the table and wait for her as I think about how to help her, letting the breakfast stay warm in the oven. Though my stomach growls with the aroma of bacon, French toast, sausage, and scrambled eggs, I wait for her.

As near as I can figure, Bella isn't happy in her stupid joke of a marriage. I have two options: one - try to help her get out of it; or two – help her make the marriage happy and stay in it. The question is, which would Bella want more? And that's really all I'm thinking about – her happiness. My feelings are completely secondary, as much as it kills me to admit it. I could convince her to leave him, I'm sure of it. It wouldn't be easy, and it would take some time, but I could do it. I'd probably go the concerned friend route. I'd extol the virtues of the husband, but deep down I'd steer her toward leaving him. I'd show her what life could be like with me – natural, easy as breathing. Happy. Not all this drama, angst…heartache. A life completely devoid of all the bullshit he puts her through on a daily basis.

But I have a sinking feeling that what she'll ask for is the opposite. She will want to stay in the marriage, try to make it work. She loves that fuckin vampire, for whatever reason. Again, I think he has some supernatural hold on her – some type of vampire voodoo that makes her moon after him like some lovesick puppy, always chasing what isn't good for her.

I know that's what she'll want. Because of this, when I hear her stirring, I almost make up my mind not to talk to her about it at all. I want to save the bliss. I want to keep the feeling I have right now - the feeling of comfort and stability I'm experiencing with her here, under my roof, sleeping in my bed and eating my food - forever.

It's not gonna happen. I have to get the info directly from her and then act on it. It's gonna kill me, I know it. My heart pounds as she enters the room, still dressed in my t-shirt – nothing underneath it – and the jeans she was wearing last night when I took her away from Charlie's.

"Hey," she greets me.

"Hey," I answer. "Did you sleep okay?"

She stretches, raising her arms up over her head and giving me a nice view of her boobs. I watch her hungrily, but I know there's nothing I can do with her. First of all, she's traumatized by the treatment she's getting from Cullen. Secondly, she's fuckin married. Throws a little damper on things.

"Better than I have in months," she answers, sighing. "God, it felt so good." She smiles at me.

"You hungry?" I ask, returning her grin halfheartedly. This is gonna suck. I _so _ don't want to discuss this with her.

"I'm starving. You cooked?" She glances around, but I've already washed the dishes and put them away, and breakfast is waiting in the oven. "Or did you already eat? I smell food but I don't see it."

I get up and pull the dishes out of the oven. She watches with a look of anticipation, then jumps into action by pulling out the butter and syrup from where she knows they're stowed. She's been here enough that she's pretty familiar with our kitchen. "Milk?" she asks, pulling out the jug. She knows me well. Along with my coffee I always have a big glass of milk with my breakfast. I nod and she fills a glass that she fetches from the cabinet over the sink.

We get breakfast on the table and sit down to eat. The food is piping hot and hasn't lost anything from its stay in the oven. She takes a big bite of French toast and moans with pleasure. "God, it's been so long since anyone cooked anything for me. This tastes like heaven."

I chuckle, more because I'm so happy than from anything actually being funny. God, I hate the idea that I'm going to have to ruin this mood. I scarf down a plate of eggs and bacon, and grab a few slices of French toast myself along with some sausage links. I douse the whole thing in syrup and spear a big bite. I know what I'm doing - I'm avoiding the inevitable. But I don't care. I want a few more minutes of happiness before I'm plunged into despair again.

I'm amazed by how satisfying it is for me to watch her enjoying the breakfast I've made her. Who knew that cooking for someone could be so gratifying? It feels so right, I can't fathom why she'd pick that motherfucker over me. The whole thing is so confusing.

Finally I slurp the last of my milk from the bottom of the glass and wipe my forearm across my mouth like a six-year-old. I stand and gather the dishes, but she's having none of that. "Jake, no. You cooked, that means I clean up," she protests, trying to take the pile of sticky plates from me.

"Naw, you're a guest," I say, putting her off easily.

She continues to try to protest, but I won't let her lift a finger. "Sit down, Bells. We have to talk," I tell her. She sits back in her chair with an exasperated eyeroll.

"What now?" she asks.

I run the sink full of hot soapy water and, with my back to her, start the conversation.

"I've been thinking about what you told me last night," I say. I've got to swallow back the fury, the nausea that threatens when I think about it, but I force myself to make my voice neutral. I don't want her closing herself off to me.

"Yeah?" she asks with trepidation.

"Well, Bells, as far as I can tell, you've got two choices."

"And what are those?" she asks skeptically.

I rinse a plate and stack it in the drainer, buying myself a little time. "You can try to make this marriage work..." I run the water again, splashing myself in the process. "Or you can leave."

I hear nothing from behind me as I continue to wash the dishes. So I keep going. "I'll help you, honey - no matter what you decide," I say.

Bella doesn't say a word, so I finally turn to look at her. There are silent tears running down her face. "What's wrong?" I ask, defeated.

"You're too..._nice_, Jake. It just - it breaks my heart," she weeps quietly.

I'm done with the dishes, since I did most of them before she got up, so I sit next to her at the table and grab her hand. She takes the opportunity to rest her head on my shoulder. My t-shirt gets wet with her tears as she continues crying. I know what her answer is.

"It's okay, Bells," I say, like the pushover I am. "I get it. You want to make it work. So I'll help you make it work."

"And how will you do that?" she asks through her tears.

"I don't know," I say honestly. "I don't have a clue. It's not like I can Google it. But I'm willing to try anything."

"Oh, Jake," she moans, burying her face in my shirt. "Stop! It makes me feel ten times worse that you're so nice to me!"

"It's okay," I tell her, though my chest is burning with pain. I completely miss the irony - which is that I feel the same way about Shea. I feel like an absolute shit for not being as nice to her as she is to me. That doesn't cross my mind though. "Just tell me what you think would help."

She looks at me with those big puppy dog eyes, her mouth working like something's caught in her throat. "I...I don't know," she finally chokes out.

I look at her intensely. She wants to tell me something, but she is hesitating for some reason. What is it? She's already told me probably the most personal thing she could have told anyone besides her husband. What's holding her back now?

I put a finger under her chin and lift her face to look at me. "Hey, Bella," I say, staring directly into her eyes. "I'm gonna tell you this again. Nothing you say to me is gonna make me think any different of you, baby. Just tell me what you think will help. I promise, I'll do my best to make you happy."

Her eyes fill with tears anew, and her face goes red with the effort of keeping her sobs in check. She struggles to compose herself. Finally, after a few minutes, she hides her face again and says in a strangled voice, "Okay, here goes. We've been...trying...since the wedding." She cuts off again, burrowing further into me.

"Trying to...um..._do_ it?" I ask uncertainly.

"Yes," she sighs gratefully. "Yes, we've been trying to do it. But he's afraid, like I said. He's afraid he'll lose control and...I guess, kill me."

"Great," I say with unenthusiastic sarcasm.

She elbows me and says, "Shut up."

"Sorry," I say, even though I'm not and I'm sure she knows it from my tone.

"Okay, so... the main problem, I think...," she says, trailing off. Then suddenly in a rush, she covers her eyes with her hands and says, "Ugh, this sucks! It's so awkward!"

I sigh theatrically. "Come on, Bells," I say, exasperated. "Just tell me already." Yeah. I'm begging her to tell me how to help her stay in her marriage with my mortal enemy. I've gone completely insane. But I hate that look on her face. I don't care what I have to do to remove it.

"Okay," she sighs. "Okay. What I think happened is that I lost trust in him when he betrayed me like that." She says this quickly, as if she's hurrying to get through an unpleasant task. I can't say I blame her. "And I don't think I can be that...vulnerable around him."

I digest this slowly, rolling my eyes at my own stupidity. What I've done, essentially, is ask her to let me help her surrender herself to him. Jesus, could I be any dumber? "So you need to be able to be _vulnerable_ with him?" I ask, hoping she'll tell me otherwise.

She shrugs and nods, embarrassed at the admission.

Fuck. This is gonna kill me, I just know it.

I sigh. "Okay," I say, pulling her closer. All that matters is that she get what she needs, right? I just want her to be happy. Right? My feelings don't matter here, do they? When I feel her settle against me, the tension melting away from her skinny little frame, I realize that it's true. My feelings mean nothing. If I can make her feel better, I'll be happy too. Somewhat. "So you basically need me to get you to the point where you're...less inhibited...when you guys are trying." I can't bring myself to say _what _they're trying.

And evidently she can't bring herself to actually verbalize her answer. She tucks her head beneath my chin and I feel rather than see her nod. I stroke her hair absently, thinking. How the fuck do I go about doing this? The only thing my perverted mind can come up with is to coax her to make love with me, though I don't know how well that will translate. And I don't know if it will actually work. But I do know she still trusts me, so at least there's that. I can take a little comfort in it.

"Bells, all I can think of is to...kind of...persuade you somehow to let your guard down with me, and maybe that will get you to let _him_ in." God, it absolutely _kills_ me to do this for him. That motherfucker wouldn't give me a sip of water if I were dying in the desert, and here I am, trying to fix his marriage for him. It's like a razor sharp knife slicing right through my gut.

"That's all I can think of too," she whispers. "And it sounds insane."

I hug her harder. "I know," I say. And now I have to add this little pearl. "And we somehow have to convince the bl-...your husband to allow it."

"I should be able to do that," she says uncertainly.

"Are you sure?" I ask, doubtful.

"No," she answers.

I chuckle slightly, though nothing is funny at all. "Do you want to call him?" I ask. "Or would you rather I took you home?"

"To Charlie's?" she asks, sounding hopeful and surprised at once. Aw, Bells.

"No, honey. To your husband."

"Oh." I remember how she called where she currently lives 'the Cullen's house.' She's been living there two months and she doesn't even consider it her home. She still thinks of Charlie's house as home, and that's just sad. "Yeah, this is probably a conversation I have to have in person, right?"

I shake my head, chuckling again. Still nothing is funny, but I can't help it. The thought of her asking Cullen if this will be okay with him just strikes me as completely absurd. What's she going to say? '_Oh, Edward, I hope you don't mind, but I've decided to let Jake make love to me several times to make me more comfortable with the whole process. That okay with you?_' And what will his answer be? '_Sure, Bella, go nuts. I'll be here when you're ready. Have fun'_? Good God, I was going crazy.

"Yeah, I guess," I answer with a little grin in my voice. She looks up and frowns at me.

"It's not funny, Jake," she says moodily.

"I know, Bells. Sorry," I say contritely. "It isn't funny, you're right. But it _is_ ridiculous."

She shrugs. "Everything about this situation is ridiculous." she says, sighing.

Something occurs to me suddenly. "Hey, uh...he doesn't know you're not a virgin, does he?" I ask.

She shakes her head, looking up at me regretfully. "No, he'd feel even worse if he knew I'd done it before, especially with you." Now she lets out a little chuckle. "I'm pretty sure he thinks half the problem is the fact that I'm still a virgin." She stops to think for a minute. "You don't think he'll be able to figure it out, do you?" she asks fearfully.

I shake my head. "I don't think so. He's never done it before, has he?" I ask.

"He says he hasn't," she says.

"So he's got nothing to compare it to," I say. "Don't worry." But the thought sticks at the back of my mind. I think of Shea again, and the thought takes me completely by surprise. I guess the reason she pops to mind is because Bella was a virgin - well, we both were - the first time we went all the way, but Shea wasn't. I try to think if there was a noticeable difference, but can't really come up with one.

I guess my face changes, because Bella suddenly asks accusingly, "What are you thinking about?" It pulls me out of the moment, and I blink back to the present.

"Nothing," I answer, only a little guiltily.

She stares into my eyes for a minute, then, seemingly satisfied, she puts her head back on my shoulder. "Well, we should probably get going. I'm sure he's waiting for me."

"You know he is," I agree. "You wanna shower? I'm going to take one, and you can go after me if you want."

"Then I'll go first," she says, getting up and heading for the bathroom.

"Ohhh-kay," I say quietly to the empty room. I hear the water start and the bathroom door close.

It's the first time I've really been alone since Shea left. I take the opportunity to think about her and how shitty the breakup was. It seemed like it was almost a surprise to her, and I feel like a complete tool because of it. I want to call her, but I don't want Bella to hear. On the other hand, if our idiotic plan works, I'll be with Bells a lot more, and now might be the only time I'll have a chance to talk to Shea. But what would I say? I've already apologized. I can't really say anything to make Shea feel better. I realize that I want to call her more for me than for her - it will make me feel better, but might not do a thing for her. Might even make her feel worse. I can't think of anything I can say that would help the situation. In the end, I don't call her. I might feel worse, but at least she won't.

I do text Seth, though. I have him come over and he gets there just as Bella gets out of the bathroom. He and Bella sit down at the kitchen table and commiserate as I take my shower. I'm in and out pretty quick, not wanting to linger because when I get in, I remember how Shea and I used to shower together every day. It makes me kind of sad, so I get out of there fast.

When I get back into the kitchen, Bella and Seth seem tense. "What's up?" I ask curiously. Seth looks at me guiltily and Bella turns on me, angry.

"Why didn't you tell me you saw Edward last night, Jacob?" she demands.

Immediately, my gaze shifts to Seth and I stare daggers at him. "Thanks, Seth," I spit, annoyance clear in my tone.

"Sorry!" he rushes to say. "How'd I know you didn't say anything?"

I give him a dirty look and turn to Bells. "Okay, so I saw the leech last night. What's the big deal?" I ask belligerently.

"I just wish you would've told me," she says, dejected. The room is quiet for a few beats, then she looks up at me. "Was he okay?" she asks, her eyes huge.

I look away, shaking my head. I can't look at her, can't see that expression of longing and despair on her face. Before I think, I bite out the first words that enter my head. "No, he looks like shit Bells. He was about like you'd expect." My words trail off as I look back at her. She's staring at me, horrified, and Seth's face shows how disgusted he is with me, too. Rather than apologize for the umpteenth time today, I decide to try a different tack. With a jesting tone, I grin and say, "But I'm sure he'll be waiting so we should get a move on."

Her look says she knows I'm trying to put her off, but she lets it go and I breathe a sigh of relief as she says, "Okay. Am I going wolf-back riding again or are we driving?" She gives me a little smile.

"No, we'll take my ride," I say. I take the motorcycle keys off the hook on the wall and follow Bella and Seth out the door. As we walk, I grab Seth's arm. "Hey, don't go too far. I still haven't heard the conversation between Charlie and the leech from last night. I'm gonna want you around after I drop Bells at the crypt, okay?" I tell him softly.

He nods silently, keeping an eye on Bella as he walks. She's waiting by my cycle, and I straddle it and settle my helmet as she climbs on behind me. I try not to think about how amazing it feels to have her wrapped around me like this. Her arms hug my sides as her hands absently stroke my stomach, feeling the ripples of muscle there. She always does this when she's on the back of my bike. I guess I just thought that after she was married, it would stop. I'm incredibly thankful that it hasn't.

I take the curves much faster than I normally would with a passenger, only because I know it will drive her to embrace me tighter, press herself more firmly into my back. It's a poor excuse for a real embrace, but I take what I can get. Just like a dog begging for scraps.

I toy with the idea of taking the long way to the mausoleum, but I know Bella would figure it out right away, and probably get mad. Instead I just take my time, hiking myself back on the bike periodically so she's forced to squeeze into me tighter. I'm blissful as I ride, but in the back of my mind there's a melancholy, a bittersweetness. I'm thinking about what we have planned, and how I'm almost positive that the bloodsucker will put the kibosh on it. I mean, I'd never let my wife go off with some horny shifter, let alone one who looked and acted like me. The thought gives me a little grin, even though there isn't anything really amusing about it.

After what seems like only a few minutes, we pull into the ridiculously long drive of the Cullen coven. I approach the house nervously; according to the treaty, this isn't acceptable or allowed. And of course, just as I suspected, there stands Cullen in the clearing, still pacing like an expectant father with the clap.

"Bella!" he calls desperately. Jeez, dramatic much? I roll my eyes as Bella carefully climbs off the bike. "Love, I was so worried..." As he speaks, he moves toward her as if to catch her up in a hug.

She stops him with a palm-out hand gesture. "Hold on, Edward," she says in a warning tone. "There are some ground rules here that we need to follow."

I want to cheer. This is the Bella I know and love: feisty and sassy, not taking shit from anyone. That's the way she behaves with me - why should he get special treatment? I feel my face stretch into a grin, watching as Bella scowls at him. It's like seeing a kitten stare down a gorilla.

"Ground rules?" he asks incredulously. "Bella, you've been gone all night! This is highly inappropriate behavior for a married woman!"

Bella doesn't bat an eye. "I'll decide what's inappropriate," she says mildly. "I think you telling my father that you have the right to choose my friends is inappropriate. You don't have that right. No one does."

I watch him carefully. He's furious, but he's doing a good job of trying not to show it. I wonder if Bella can see it. It's in the very subtle way he holds his frame so tensely, the way his mouth is set. I want to warn her, but I can't really say anything.

His eyes flick to me, disgusted. He hears my thoughts and I can see his effort as he visibly relaxes. I continue to watch, and think at him that he should watch himself, because I'm not leaving until Bella tells me to. He nods once; he hears me.

If Bella notices the exchange, she doesn't acknowledge it. She brushes her hair out of her eyes, and in this gesture I see how vulnerable she is, how young and innocent. I want to take her away, far away, and hide her from that son of a bitch forever. I have to try - really hard - not to move toward her. It goes against everything in me not to protect her, and I know her bloodsucker husband can read my thoughts. He ignores me, though. He stares straight at her while I work on blanking my mind.

"Bella, I'm very sorry I said that," he says. He sounds sincere. "I know that's not my right. But you know how I feel about the dog." He looks at me maliciously.

"Don't call him that!" she cries, suddenly angry. I love that she's defending me, and I can't help but notice that she allows me to call that douche whatever disparaging name I can think of, but she objects if he calls me a dog. It's only a vague feeling of approval though. I know I can't put the thought into words or he'll be able to read it. He doesn't seems confused by my cocksureness, though. He seems to know why I'm pleased by Bella's declaration.

She continues. "That's part of the problem, Edward! You have to let me have my friends! Jake and I have been close for years. He's a friend of the family. We'll always be close, no matter what you do."

Okay, I guess I should come clean on one little point. See, when the tool standing in front of my girl left, supposedly to 'protect' her, and she and I got together, we kept a few things secret from the coven. And while it's extremely difficult to keep things from _this_ particular leech, it's not impossible. Charlie never really knew how deep our relationship had grown, so Cullen couldn't pull it out of his head. And if any of the pack members thought of my relationship with Bella, I'm pretty sure the parasite would think it was all very one sided - on my side only. Cullen never knew of the extent of our affair, either emotionally or physically. This is why Bella is now able to facetiously explain away our friendship without Cullen catching on that what we really had was true love. I know it sounds lame, but there it is.

"I understand that, Bella," he says wearily. "And I will agree to it, but I'd like to set a few guidelines myself." He turns to me. "Can my wife and I possibly have a few moments of privacy, d...Jacob?" He says this in a tortured tone, as if I've somehow offended his elite vampire sensibilities. I chuckle derisively.

"You gonna be okay, Bells?" I ask.

"I'll call you in a few hours," she tells me. I can tell the leech doesn't like this, but he doesn't protest now.

"Okay," I say. I turn and mount the bike, spraying a fantail of gravel at him as I peel down the driveway.

As I ride home, I think about the fact that I don't really like that I have to leave her there, but I guess there's no other way to do this. Again, I'm afraid to hope for the outcome we've planned - I think to myself that it will be both amazingly cathartic and heartbreakingly tortuous. Cathartic because maybe if I have the opportunity to make love to her again, knowing it's limited, I can begin to let go of her and heal. Tortuous, because I know it will be agonizing for me to make love to her knowing it's all for him and that she's going back to him. UGH! But...it's for Bella. I can't deny her anything. But I also can't even stomach this. I pull to the side of the road just in time to yank the helmet off my head and puke violently in the gravel. After I'm through, I lean wearily against the bike at the side of the road. Man, this is gonna suck.

I still haven't talked to Seth about the encounter between Charlie and Bella last night – or Charlie and the leech, for that matter - and thinking this might give me some insight into the relationship so I'm better equipped to help her, I send a terse text to Seth asking, '_You home?'_

It only takes him a second to answer_. 'Yep,' _he replies_. 'Come on by.'_

I drag myself to my feet and grab my helmet off the shoulder of the road where I tossed it just before I tossed my cookies. I go slow as I ride to Seth's, not wanting to hurl again. I think if I just got a glass of water, it would help settle my stomach. When I pull up in front of the little house where the Clearwaters live, I'm relieved to see that Leah, Seth's sister and the only female pack member, and Sue, his mom, aren't home.

I pull the door open and find Seth waiting for me at the kitchen table. His eyes cloud with concern as he looks up at me. "Jesus, dude, you look like shit," he says.

I sit heavily in a chair and rest my elbows on the table. "I know," I say. "I just left Bella at the Cullen crypt."

"Oh," he says knowingly. "Boy, she's pretty fucked up, huh?"

"Yeah, what did you hear anyway?" I don't really _want_ to know, but I feel like I _need_ to. So to torture myself further, I ask.

He sighs, one corner of his mouth twisting in a sneer. "Well, she talked to Charlie when you were confronting Cullen," he says. "She didn't come out and say that he was beating her or anything, but you'd never know from the way Charlie was reacting."

"Why is that?" I ask listlessly.

He gets up and fetches me a glass of water without even asking. "Well," he says, "he asked her how things were going and she said, 'Okay, I guess.' He latched on to that, wanting to know what that was supposed to mean. He directly asked her if he was hurting her and of course she got all cranky and said no. But he kept on pushing and told her finally that he wanted to hear from her at least every other day and see her at least once a week. But she seemed to think that Cullen wouldn't let that happen."

"What!?" I'm annoyed, to put it mildly. Where the fuck does that bloodsucker get off telling her who she can call and when? God, he is so controlling!

"That was right before you came back. That's why Charlie was so pissed when you joined us again. He was losing it, Jake, I swear."

"Who wouldn't be?" I mutter. We're silent for a few minutes. I feel better after I down the water and get that dank taste out of my mouth. Then I say, "So then what happened? After Bells ran out?"

"Charlie started in on Edward, and he wouldn't let Cullen get a word in. He was more pissed off than I've ever seen him, seriously, Jake. Swear to God, if he'd had his gun, the vamp would have a hole in his chest as we speak."

"Good," I say shortly, wishing fervently that Charlie had pulled his gun on him.

"Yeah, so he told Cullen that Bella has a right to see him and to see you. He specifically named you, because when Bella was talking to Charlie, she said she misses you." He looks at me carefully, watching for my reaction.

"I know she misses me," I say. "Why do you think she calls me so much?"

"Well, Charlie told him to let her see you if she wants to. Told him it wasn't healthy to keep her all locked away, no matter what they were doing."

I shake my head. "What they're doing," I mutter, "is so disturbing, Charlie would yank her out of there if he knew about it."

Seth looks disgusted. "Did she share anything else? Tell you exactly what he's…_doing_ to her?"

"No, and I honestly don't want to know any more details, Seth. The whole thing is so disturbing I can't even think about it. Fuckin Cullen."

There's a prolonged silence. Finally Seth asks, "So you took her back there, huh?"

I scrub a palm over my face, frustrated. "Yeah," I answer with a sigh. "She's got a…proposal for him."

One of Seth's eyebrows raises quizzically. "Proposal?" he asks.

"Aw, God, Seth, you don't wanna know," I say.

"That's what's got you so fucked up, isn't it?" he rightly concludes. I just look at him with a slow blink. "What are you gonna do, Jake?"

I huff a humorless chuckle. "Well, she says she can't fuck the guy because she doesn't trust him. So, like the sap I am, I offered to…try to get her to that point where she can trust him again. So she can love her vampire all the way, y'know?"

Seth's mouth drops open and he stares at me like I'm crazy. Oh, Seth, you don't know the half of it. "Wait, what are you saying?" he asks. He shakes his head fast, like he doesn't get it. "Are you telling me what I think you're telling me? You're gonna try to get her used to fucking a vampire?"

I shrug.

"You gotta be fuckin kidding me," he says. I can't tell what's disgusted him more; the actual plan or the fact that I'm such a chump. "You...you..." He can't put a sentence together, he's so flabbergasted at my admission. Finally he looks up at me and says, "What?!"

I shrug again, making a helpless gesture with my hands. "What can I do?" I ask him. "She needs me."

Seth is pissed, and that isn't something that happens easily. He erupts violently, standing up and letting the chair fall behind him. "What she _needs_ is to cut the shit!" he yells, banging the table for emphasis. "What the fuck, Jake? She left, she _married_ that bloodsucker. I don't have anything against the guy as a person, but...Jesus, Jake!" He stands over me, his chest heaving. He's really wound up. He shakes his head again, his eyes furious. "And what about Shea? How d'ya think she'll feel about this?"

"We broke up," I tell him without meeting his eyes, even though he already knows this.

"Yeah?" he snorts. "Does _she_ know that? Because I saw her yesterday afternoon, before I called you, and she didn't seem to know about any breakup."

"There was a misunderstanding," I say, feeling like a piece of dog shit stuck to the bottom of a shoe. "She knows now."

"Really now," he says sarcastically. "Yeah, I guess she does, since we saw her leaving last night while we were guarding the border against your new girlfriend's _husband_."

"You saw Shea?" I ask. I remember how broken up she looked when she left last night and the guilty feeling comes back.

"Oh, yeah," he says, sarcastic now. "She looked like she was having the time of her life. Sobbing, hysterical. She could barely drive."

I put my head down on the table. "Fuck," I mutter.

Seth rights the chair and sits back down with a long sigh. "God damn, Jake," he says. "You are one fucked up dude."

"Tell me something I don't know," I say. My cell phone buzzes, and I see that it's a text from Shea. _'Can I call u?'_

Instead of texting her, I call her back, taking the phone outside and huddling over it so Seth won't be able to hear me. "Hey," I say when she picks up.

"Hey," she answers, and it sounds like a sigh.

"How you doing?" I ask, not knowing what else to say.

"Not great, Jake," she says.

"Sorry," I say regretfully.

"Are you?" she asks. "Because I don't know about that."

"Look, Shea, I don't know what to say," I tell her. "I mean this, it's not fair to you. That's the bottom line. I had to let you go, y'know?"

"Yeah?" she says sarcastically. "You sure it doesn't have something to do with this Bella?"

"Well, it does, in a way. She…kinda needs some help."

"Oh, doesn't _that_ sound convenient!" Shea says sarcastically. "And I guess you're the only one who can help her, right?" I don't say anything. "What about her husband? Why doesn't she ask _him_ for help?"

"He's kind of the problem," I say quietly.

Shea doesn't say anything for a couple of minutes, and I think she might have hung up. "Shea?" I say.

"I'm here. Are…are you saying she's in an abusive relationship?" she asks.

"Um…I don't know if I'd say _that_," I protest, knowing I can't tell her everything. "I mean, he's controlling, sure. He doesn't want her to see me. He doesn't want her to see her dad because he thinks I might come over while she's there. But I guess that's to be expected with his…type. He's always been kinda possessive."

"Jake! Listen to yourself! You're using words like controlling and possessive! Those are words that describe abusive relationships. Baby, you're in over your head here. Get her some real help and let her heal!"

"She wants _me_ to help her heal," I insist.

Shea's quiet again. "I see," she says in a muted tone. "And what Bella wants, Bella gets - is that it?"

When it comes to me, yeah, I think – but I don't say it. "It's not what she wants, Shea. It's what she needs. And she's close to me. She can't just share her problems with anyone. Even a professional." Wow, is _that_ an understatement.

"Jake, you're just a kid! You can't be expected to help her!"

My face grimaces, perplexed and disturbed all at once. "I'm _just a kid_?" I ask, dumbfounded. "Is that what you just said?"

"What?" she demands. "You're nineteen years old! You aren't equipped to deal with this!"

If only she knew. If only she knew what I 'deal with' on a daily basis. "Shea," I say quietly, "I know you mean well, but to be honest, you don't really know the real me. I can _deal with_ a lot more than you give me credit for. I lost my mom when I was nine. I've been caring for my dad, mostly by myself, since I was twelve. I take care of…a lot of _problems_ here on the rez. You think of me as this brooding guy who you met on the beach and who you're trying to fix, a guy who works in an auto shop because he can't do anything else - but you don't know me, honey. You don't know the real me." I say this nicely, though I want to spit the words. She truly doesn't know. Because I've never shown her the real me. It's not her fault.

She doesn't answer. Finally she says, "Okay, so when you're done helping her, then what?" She asks this despondently, and if possible, I feel even lower.

I sigh. "I don't know, Shea. I can't see the future."

"Well," she exhales. "I still need to come by and get my stuff. What's your schedule look like tomorrow? I can come by while you're at work."

"It's the same schedule I've had as long as I've known you, Shea. I get to work around 8:30. I come home around five."

"Okay," she says. "I'll be out of there before you come home. I'll leave your key on the table. Okay?"

"You sure you don't need any help?" I ask. I don't know if I'm ready to say goodbye yet.

"I think you have your hands full in the 'help' department," she says acerbically. "I'll see you around, Jake." She doesn't even wait for me to say goodbye. She hangs up and I'm left holding the phone to my ear like a jackass.

My hands fall to my sides as I let my head lean back and look up at the sky, letting out an elongated breath. "Fuck!" I yell, hearing it echo back to me through the trees – 'fuck, fuck, fuck…' I don't understand why I'm so upset. I'm finished with Shea, right? Is it because I know now that Bella is unattainable, and I want to keep Shea in reserve for when Bella is back with the leech?

I drag myself back into Seth's house, and he sneers up at me. "You through dumping the prettiest girl in the area for the fucked up vamp lover?" he asks.

"Shut up, Seth," I answer shortly, sitting down. "I can't help it; you know that."

"I know," he sighs. "So now what?"

"Now I wait. I wait until Bella calls. And I hope she doesn't let me help her. Or else I hope she does. I don't know what to hope."

"God damn, dude."

"I know."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hello, my friends! This was probably the hardest chapter I've written so far, and not because of the lemon. Idk how SM could write Bella to be so cruel to the nicest person in any of her books - nicest besides maybe Charlie, that is. Seriously, show me a place in any part of the Twilight Saga where Jake is actually mean or nasty - it's not there! Doesn't happen - so why is she such a bitch to him? It's so hard to keep her in character - I just want to make her into a nice person. Bella needs redemption, dammit!**

**Anyway, anything you recognize is SM's. Not that I envy her. Well, I do. I just don't wanna admit it.**

Chapter 9

I leave Seth's an hour or so later, winding my way home on my cycle through the gathering darkness. I wonder for the thousandth time today what the hell is going on over at the crypt. She's trying to convince him; of that I'm sure – but what else? I hope with every fiber of my being, wolf and man, that he's not yelling at her, upsetting her, _hurting_ her more than he already has.

I'm still not hungry when I get home, but I make myself eat something – I don't even know what it is. My mind is completely preoccupied with her. I want her to call. I don't want her to call. I don't know what I want.

Finally, _finally_, my phone buzzes, and it's her. I press the TALK button and say nothing.

"Jake? Can you come get me?" she asks forlornly, her voice thick with crying.

"I'm on my way," I answer, my heart pounding. I go out to the bike I've left there, standing in what is now a steady drizzle, and take off like a bat out of hell.

In record time, I pull up to the Cullen crypt, spraying gravel as I brake to a stop. She's on the porch, no vamps in sight. I can't smell anything either – just her fresh, soft, luscious scent. As soon as she sees me she sprints across the driveway and flings herself into my arms. I don't even have time to get off my bike.

"Thank you," she whispers.

"Get on," I reply.

She situates herself on the saddle and scrunches into me, but I move away and take off my jacket, handing it to her. She wraps it around herself gratefully and puts her leather-clad arms around my waist. But I'm not all altruistic. I give her the jacket to keep her warm, but I have an ulterior motive too. I want to feel her against my t-shirted back, not through my leather jacket. Sure, the jacket will keep her warm, but it's _her_ warmth I want to feel. I'm gonna be selfish here – because I'm pretty sure I know what's coming.

She can't really talk to me on the ride back to my place because of the noise, and even when we pull up to Billy's and she's off the bike, she doesn't say much. She holds one hand out to me and I take it, then we walk hand-in-hand into the kitchen and sit down at the table. She looks tiny sitting there in my coat. It completely engulfs her, and she looks like a scared little girl. I reach over and take both her hands in mine. They're like ice.

Her face is puffy with crying, and I figure she's had a long afternoon. "You hungry?" I ask softly. She shakes her head, but I get up and pour her a bowl of corn flakes, douse it in milk, and set it in front of her. She eats quickly, then hands the bowl to me. I put it in the sink. "Better?" I ask.

She nods, then looks up at me and shrugs. I can feel my face grimace into a wry smile. "That bad, huh?" I ask.

"Well, it took a little while, but I convinced him," she says finally, not meeting my eyes.

"Convinced him?" I ask, my heart soaring and dropping at once.

"To let you help me," she says simply.

Yeah. That's what I thought.

"Okay," I say. "So what do we do now?"

"I thought you'd have some idea," she says, looking at me hopelessly.

"Yeah, I have an idea," I say authoritatively. I walk over to where she's seated and sit in the chair next to her, gathering her up in my arms. She's tense, expecting something – a move, an advance of some sort. But that's not what I have in mind at all, and I feel so bad that she's this edgy about the whole thing. Stupid fuckin vamp. "It's okay, baby," I whisper into her hair. "We're just gonna go to bed and get some sleep, okay? We'll give this thing some thought tomorrow."

"We should talk about it now, though," she says. "I don't think I can sleep until we do."

"Okay," I say agreeably. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Well," she says, "Edward wants me to try to get…acclimated…within a couple of weeks, if that's possible. And he'd like us to try to get there without…doing it."

"Hm." I say. "Well, _that_ sounds near impossible. How the hell is that supposed to work?" I'm really being sarcastic, but I can't help it. Where the hell does he get off? Either he wants me to help or he doesn't. He can't go around telling me _how_ to help. Obviously if _he_ knew how to help, he wouldn't need me. So he wants me to get this done in two weeks when he hasn't been able to do it in two _months_? And he's gonna set limits on _how_ I do it? Well, fuck him. I'll get it done when I get damn good and ready.

"Well, that's what he said. And I told him I'd relay the message, so consider it relayed." She looks up at me, a challenge in her eyes. And I see that she's only telling me this because he said she should. Not necessarily because she agrees with him.

I smile at her. "Gotcha," I say. "Now that you relayed the message, wanna go to bed?"

She looks up at me gratefully. "Yes," she sighs.

So we go to bed.

She cuddles in happily, though she still won't let me turn off the light. I spoon up against her, wrapping her in my arms. "So…" I say. "Are you going to stay here with me for the duration?"

"I think I probably will, but I'll decide for sure soon," she says quietly.

"I'm s'posta work tomorrow," I tell her.

"I know," she says.

"But I _have_ been there over a year, and I haven't taken any time off. Maybe Sam will let me have a few days of vacation."

"Just until I feel comfortable being here alone," she's quick to say.

"Look, honey, don't worry about it. I don't have to go in tomorrow. Or you can come in with me. You can sit in the office and go online or read. I do have a kind of cool project I'm working on. You might like it." I'm thinking about that T-bird and how much I want to get that thing running. And I remember when the leech left that time, how Bells and I spent a lot of time in my garage, her watching me work on our bikes. It worked that time to bring us closer, maybe it would work this time too.

"Okay," she sighs, and the next thing I know her breaths are deep and easy, and I know she's asleep.

We sleep like that all night, with her snuggled into my arms, and it feels like heaven to me. When my alarm goes off, I want to stay in bed, and that hasn't happened in almost a year. I've been driven like a madman ever since she's been out of my life, going from place to place looking for peace. I'd get out of bed and rush to work like I'd find comfort there, then rush through my work and back home to see if there was any relief there. It was like I was being chased by something I couldn't see. And today that feeling is gone.

She, on the other hand, gets right up and starts breakfast while I jump in the shower. I'm done in mere minutes, and I realize that I'm rushing to get back to her. I really don't want to leave her today. I decide to text Sam and see if it's okay that I take today off.

He answers me with a terse, '_Ok, but that t bird ain't gonna fix herself_.' Okay, so he'd rather I came in. I can do that. I tell him I'll be there and get dressed then follow the aroma of breakfast coming from the kitchen.

She's got my robe slouched over her shoulders, and while Shea filled it out much better than my girl ever could, she looks so cute and irresistible in it that I hug her from behind as she stands at the stove making chocolate chip pancakes. "Hey," she protests jokingly. "No PDA in the kitchen!"

"Is that some kind of rule?" I ask, releasing her. "It's not a public display of affection if we're not in public, Bells."

She laughs happily, turning to hug me, and I catch a glimpse of her face. She's got a little color in her cheeks and actually looks rested. It makes my heart soar. I can't believe how happy it makes me that she's here, with me – even if it is just for now.

"Can I take the Rabbit today?" she asks, referring to my little red car that I used to drive before I got the truck. "Charlie's on the evening shift tonight so he doesn't have to be at the station until 3. I thought I'd go see him while you're at work."

"Sure, honey, anything you want. You know you don't even have to ask," I say. "But I got rid of the Rabbit. You can use my truck."

She turns and looks at me, her mouth open and her eyes wide. "You got _rid_ of it?" she asks. "_Why_?"

I shrug self-consciously. "I dunno, I needed more space for tools, I guess." I can't tell her the real reason – that it reminded me too much of her. "But the truck's easy to drive; you'll like it."

"Okay," she says and I detect a little sadness in her voice. It was hard to get rid of that Rabbit, but I couldn't take the constant reminder of my time with her in the garage while I rebuilt it. I can tell she remembers that time fondly too.

But it's all good. She'll be with Charlie today, so that means she'll be safe. "You call me when you get there, okay?" I'll have Quil and Leah follow her to Charlie's so the bloodsucker doesn't ambush her as soon as she leaves the rez – but I'm not telling her that. I want her to feel like she's free to do what she wants with me, after two solid months of being under the constant surveillance of the Cullen coven, and several months before that of sporadic supervision while she dated the leech.

"And when I leave to come back," she sighs, rolling her eyes. "Believe me, I'm used to constantly reporting in."

"No, you don't have to call when you leave," I tell her. She doesn't need to know that I'll be checking up on her. "And you don't have to call when get there, either – if you don't want to."

"Really?" she asks, mildly surprised. "Edward would be watching my every move."

"I'm not Edward," I answer, spitting his name out like it tastes bad. I take the dishes out of the cabinet for breakfast.

"Awesome," she remarks, and I hide a smile.

We eat the pancakes and sausage she's cooked up, and she makes me a to-go cup of coffee as I finish brushing my teeth. I give her the keys to the truck and a chaste peck on the cheek before I leave, and then I'm out the door and racing toward work on my bike.

When I get to work, I quickly call Charlie and tell him to let me know when Bella leaves his place. He readily agrees and I discover that he's just as fed up with Cullen and his antics as I am. If only he knew the whole story – he'd take her away so fast she wouldn't know what hit her. But it has to be her decision – and I'm really hoping I can convince her.

"I'll keep an eye out for her, Jake," he tells me, and we hang up, both of us feeling better about the situation.

As soon as Quil appears at work, I tell him my plan to have him follow Bells to Charlie's house.

"You're crazy, you know that, right?" he says to me. "Sam isn't gonna like this." Everyone knows how Sam feels about Bella.

"I'll take care of Sam," I say to Quil. "You get Leah and follow Bella. Let me know if anything happens."

"Okay," he says doubtfully, leaving the way he came in. I watch him lope into the forest and I turn just as Sam comes up behind me.

"What the hell is going on, Black?" he demands.

"Quil'll be back in forty-five minutes or so," I answer, heading out toward the T-bird. "You need me, I'll be working on that Ford."

He follows me. Shit. "That doesn't answer my question, Jacob. What did you send him to do?" I turn back to face him and sigh.

"Look, Sam, this is _my_ fight, okay? Quil is in _my_ pack, he answers to me. I understand your attitude, and I get it. But this is something I have to do. You understand?"

Sam knows he can't really say anything to me. He's an Alpha too, but I'm an Alpha by birth, and he can't trump that. He's pissed, I can tell, but he turns away with a grunt and says nothing more.

I busy myself with the next steps in rebuilding the T-bird. Quil returns less than an hour later and reports that Bella got to Charlie's safe and sound, with no sign of vamps around the place. I'm positive that Cullen has his soothsaying sister watching Bella and he's attuned to her every move. What Cullen doesn't know is that I am aware of a glitch in the system, as it were. Bella let it slip a while ago that the seer can't see everything. She can't see me or my pack mates, and she can't see Bella when she's with us. That's a bonus for us, but it doesn't protect Bella when she isn't with me. I can only hope that he's careless enough to think she'll stay on the rez and not have the little female look for her. I'm sure that's an empty hope though. Cullen is never careless when it comes to Bella.

The day goes by fast despite the fact that I'm worried at the back of my mind about her. At around 2:30, Charlie texts me that Bella will be leaving shortly. I dispatch Quil again, without Leah this time since she's in class right now, and he's back again within a little more than an hour. He reports that it smelled like Bella cooked for Charlie and that she stopped on the way home to pick up groceries for my place. She's there now, and Quil says he thinks she'll stay put until I get home.

I want to leave, but I think it would look suspicious if I come swooping in as soon as she gets back. Besides, Sam would have a word or two to say about that. I have to put in a certain amount of time if I want my paychecks to cover my bills. Not that I have any extravagant bills, but it's hard to pay utilities on my salary and without Billy's disability check. I continue to work on the Ford until 4:30 rolls around and then I'm out the door.

As I round the final bend before I get home, my heart sinks. Next to my truck sits a little red Miata, and I suddenly remember with a flash that Shea was supposed to come by and pick her stuff up today. Fuck, I can't believe I forgot!

I slow the bike and ride her in quietly, letting her idle so the girls won't know I'm home. I hope Shea's ready to leave because, coward that I am, I don't want this confrontation. As I walk the bike into the shed, I pick up a snippet of conversation, and after that I'm frozen where I stand, listening.

Shea's voice floats out to me first. "Of _course_ I love him! Who wouldn't? He's the sexiest piece of man meat I've ever laid eyes on. You have no idea how lucky you are that he feels the way he does about you. God, he's so…beautiful."

Bella answers her. "What do you mean, how he feels about me? What do you know about it?"

"He still loves you, y'know. This is killing him. If you care about him at all, you'll leave and get professional help. He's only nineteen years old, Bella, he doesn't have the maturity to help you with this." Shea's words are snippy, and they piss me off so much that I almost go inside, but the next thing I hear rivets me to the site.

"Look, I know he still loves me. I love him too. More than you could ever know. I know the _real_ Jake, not this despondent mope that's prowling around here now. Every day I have to live with the knowledge that _I_ did that to him. Ruined him, basically. I made mistakes, okay? I'm human." She hesitates and her voice takes on a dreamy quality. "God, if you knew the _before_ Jake, the Jake I know. You wouldn't be in love with him for his beauty. You'd be in love with him for _him_. His amazing ability to bring sunshine to the darkest days. You wouldn't care _what_ he looked like if you knew the Jake I know."

"Oh, come on. You're telling me you don't even see he's the hottest thing around? Please. You'd have to be blind not to notice. And if you feel that way about him, then why would you marry someone else? I'd like to see this guy who replaced Jacob Black. He must be something else!" Shea's tone is sarcastic, and I start to realize that all she ever saw in me were my looks. Not a word is said about my personality, the essence of me. but then, I've hidden that from her this whole time.

Bella responds with venom in her voice. "I knew Jake as a kid, long before his looks came into play. Yes, he's gorgeous. But that's not what attracted me to him. I'm not that shallow. And yes, I should have waited on the whole marriage thing. I realize that now. What, you never made a mistake in your life?"

"I'd never make the mistake of leaving Jacob Black for anyone," Shea says. "And I'm not leaving him for you, either. I'll be here waiting to pick up the pieces when you go back to your husband. I'm gonna marry Jacob Black, Bella. You mark my words, savage Native American or not, he'll be mine. And I'll have his little half-breed babies, too."

Bella is silent, and I almost go inside to put a stop to this. I'm fuckin fuming - if there's any way to piss me off quick, it's to dis my people. But then I hear Bella say coldly, "Do you have all your stuff? Because I need those drawers you emptied. I have some _things_ to put away." She says this pointedly, and I grin in spite of myself. Bella's brought stuff from home. She's gonna stay.

"Don't get too comfortable," Shea says, and the door swings open. Shea struggles out under a clear plastic bin full of what I assume are her clothes and whatever else she had here. She almost runs into me as she hurries to her car, and I meet her head on and take the bin from her.

"Jake!" she says, surprised and embarrassed. Her eyes are huge as she looks up at me, and I'm staring at her with the dirtiest look I can muster. "Did you just get here?"

"I've been here long enough," I tell her shortly, carrying the bin to her car. When we're out of earshot of the kitchen I turn to her. "So…I'm a savage, huh? And that's what you like? You're gonna slum it with me and have my_ half-breed babies_?" I ask disparagingly.

"You know I didn't mean it like that," she protests.

I force a chuckle. "I heard you," I say. "I know what you meant. I guess I'm flattered that you think I'm beautiful. You're a beautiful woman, too - and to be honest, that's really all I saw in you, hon. And I'm glad I had the opportunity to see the real you, even if you haven't seen the real me. Thanks for the laughs, Shea. See ya around." I dump the bin in her trunk and turn away, not looking back. Yeah, I know that was mean. But I can't believe I thought she was so nice. She sure fooled me. Two-faced little bitch.

My boots crunch across the gravel as I stalk into the house, and I hear the Miata fire up. She takes off fast, a puff of exhaust in her wake. I shake my head without a backwards glance.

I can smell some tomato-and-cheese concoction as I enter the kitchen, and I see Bella leaning against the counter, her face sad and upset. She's not crying, but I can tell she's on the verge.

"C'mere," I say, gathering her up in a huge hug. She rests her head on my shoulder and sighs.

"Did you hear?" she asks despondently.

"I heard," I confirm.

"All of it?"

"Enough."

"Did you talk to her?"

I pull away and look into her face. "I did," I tell her. "I told her to hit the road. I'm completely over her."

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," she says, looking up at me with puppy-dog eyes.

"Are you kidding?" I grin. "I'm on cloud nine."

"What?" She's confused.

"You told her you love me," I say. I can't hide my million-watt smile.

One side of her mouth lifts in a little lopsided grin. "You knew that already," she says.

"Now how would I know that?" I ask. "You're married to someone else."

"I never stopped loving you, Jake." The words, spoken so softly, are absolute music to my ears.

"Damn, girl," I say, the smile on my face ready to split it in half. For some reason, the look she's giving me makes me self conscious, and I pull away and make a big show of sniffing the air. "What did you make? It smells amazing."

"Lasagna," she answers, a blush coloring her cheeks as she turns away. "I know you love my lasagna."

"Is it ready? I'm starving."

"Go take a shower, grease monkey. I need a couple more minutes." She whaps my ass as I walk away, and it's all I can do not to turn back and devour her with a kiss that would curl her toes. But there's time for that later.

I take my time in the shower - not like this morning. It feels great for one thing, but I also have a little voice in the back of my head that's saying, '_Slow down, Jake - she's still married, and you're doing __**all**__ this for Cullen_.' I hate the stupid voice, but I have to admit - it's right.

I make up my mind that I'll just enjoy the time I have with her, whatever it may be. I can feel my old self trying to make an appearance - I just can't help but feel elated by her declaration that she still loves me. It's what I've been waiting to hear for months.

I finish my shower and dress in a pair of clean jeans and a nondescript t-shirt. When I walk into the kitchen she's got dinner on the table, the steaming lasagna, a loaf of garlic bread, and a green salad. She dishes up two plates and we eat in a silence that's not exactly uncomfortable, but it's not really cozy either. We're both feeling a little self conscious after the big declaration, and I think I know why.

"Bells, you okay?" I ask when I've downed three slabs of lasagna.

"Are you?" she asks with a shy smile. "You must be about ready to explode after eating all that."

I lean back and rub my stomach. "Still room for dessert," I say with a smile. "But seriously, you seem kind of...quiet."

"Just thinking, I guess."

"Thinking about what?" I ask.

"If this is gonna work. _How_ this is gonna work," she says.

"We'll take it slow," I assure her. "It'll be fine."

"It's not like we have a lot of time, Jake," she protests.

I reach across the table and put my hand over hers. "We have as much time as we need, honey. I'm not in any hurry."

"Edward is," she reminds me.

I'm surprised by the fact that his name doesn't light that fire in me tonight. Calmly, I say, "I don't answer to Edward, and you don't have to when you're with me, okay? Let's get that straight now."

She still looks glum. She stands and begins to clean up dinner, and I jump up to help. "You cooked, honey, you don't have to clean up."

"I want to," she says unconvincingly.

"We'll do it together," I say, gently taking the plates out of her hands. We move around the kitchen, wiping surfaces and running soapy water. When we're standing at the sink and I'm washing while she dries, she looks up at me.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

It's easy to talk when we're not face to face and I unthinkingly blurt, "Babe, I'm way more than okay."

She chuckles a little, then says, "You know this isn't necessarily going to change anything, right? I mean, as of right now, I'm probably going back to him."

I rinse the suds out of the sink and look at her, cocky as all hell. "Yeah, that's a chance I'll take," I say. "I'm thinking I'll come out on top."

She laughs then, a full out belly laugh, like she thinks I'm the funniest thing she's ever seen. I watch her, grinning, and wonder if the bloodsucker is able to bring this side of her out. Somehow, I don't think so.

She slides the final plate into the stack in the cabinet, and while she's reaching up, I grab her from behind. There's not an ounce of stiffness in her as I wind my arms around her waist and bend to plant a slow kiss on her neck. She doesn't tense up like I expect her to; no - she literally melts into me. "Jake," she breathes in a soft, warning tone. But I ignore it.

"Come on, Bells. Just for tonight," I whisper into her hair. "You remember how good this was." She struggles for a second and I instantly let go, not wanting to force her hand in any way. I'm disappointed to say the least - but she turns herself around so she's facing me and her arms twine around my neck and she pulls me in like I'm a life preserver and she's drowning. Her pink lips whisper my name as she covers my mouth with hers and presses closer, kissing me for all she's worth.

Involuntarily, my knees dip and my hips thrust into her - I'm already hard as a rock and all it took was one kiss. She licks across my bottom lip, giving absolutely no sign of stopping. And then her tongue ventures into my mouth, taking me - me! - by surprise. Holy fuck - my breath quickens and my arms pull her closer and the wolf in me growls his pleasure.

Like the horny teenagers we are, we stand there making out, kissing each other urgently - and it feels like paradise. I don't know how long it lasts and I don't care. It could be thirty seconds or fifteen minutes - all I know is that she smells amazing and tastes even better, and she's in my arms, right where she belongs.

All of a sudden, she pulls away and covers her face. "Shit!" she says. "Jake, wait! We can't _do_ this! I'm married!"

"Okay, okay," I say soothingly. "That's fine, honey, we don't have to do anything."

She looks up at me, trusting, and says, "But I...I want to." She makes a face and shakes her head. "God, what's _wrong_ with me? I'm the one who started that!" She flips her hand as if gesturing to our makeout session. "Why? Seriously, Jake, what's my problem?"

She looks as if she really wants to know, so I shrug and say, "I dunno, Bells." I was gonna try to explain it but she cuts me off.

"I mean, I really wanted that! I wanted to kiss you. I still want it..." She glances at me for a second, then her eyes flick away as if she's embarrassed. "It used to be my favorite thing - kissing Edward. Now I'm...repulsed by him."

"What?" I ask quickly, confused and seriously surprised. I know how she feels - or at least how she felt - about the bloodsucker. This is definitely a new development. "You're _repulsed_ by him?"

"Yeah," she says sadly. "You think it's because I'm still so mad at him? I mean, I wouldn't have married him, Jake, truly, if I'd have known how this would turn out - I wouldn't have done it."

I'm still floored by her saying she's repulsed by him. And it suddenly becomes clear - it's not that Bella is closed off from him because she doesn't trust him. It's because she's disgusted by him. I think of my own situation and how quickly my feelings changed toward Shea. If she showed up right now, as horny as I am for Bella, I'd be sickened by the prospect of sex with Shea. I'm pissed at her for betraying me for all those months, claiming she loved me when all she really wanted was to appear on my burly arm. Now I don't know if the douche husband had this all planned before the wedding or if he had every intention of trying to make love to her on the wedding night and chickened out at the last minute, but either way Bella feels betrayed. That's a big hurdle to get over, and I don't know that I'm equipped to help her do that. All this runs through my head in a split second, and I'm suddenly depressed. What we have planned here - this sexual surrogacy thing - it's not gonna work.

"Well...well, _fuck_, Bells," I say, completely at a loss. Then something else occurs to me. "But you're probably going back to him? That's what you said?"

She nods glumly. "After talking to him, I feel like I kind of owe it to him to keep trying. I mean _he's_ trying. And he's trying _so hard_, Jake. It's almost painful to watch. He's...he's so...intense."

I shrug, not knowing what to say. Finally, I look at her and sigh. "Hon, this isn't gonna work – you and me. You know that, right?"

"Why not?" she demands, abruptly panicked.

Aw, Bells. I reach out and press my palm to her cheek, brushing back her hair. "Baby, it's just…" But I don't get the words out. She's on me again, only this time, she pulls me in and virtually devours me – her mouth is hungry and I feel the urgency, the absolute desperation in her kiss. I barely have time to catch a breath when she pulls away again, frustrated. She deliberately steps back and starts pacing the room.

"Okay, this is ridiculous," she mutters under her breath. "What the hell is wrong with me? I can't…I can't keep my hands off you. But I'm married! Shit!"

I almost laugh at her – it's truly comical how she's pacing the floor, wondering why she can't stop throwing herself at me. But that would be rude, so I choke it back and try to concentrate on helping her. I reach out as she passes me, but she shrugs away as I try to grab her. "Don't!" she says. "I don't trust myself!"

A chuckle escapes, I can't help it. The situation is so absurd. "Okay, Bells, I know I'm irresistible, but this is a little over the top, don't you think?" I joke.

She shakes her head with an inscrutable look. "I know, but I'm dead serious. I feel like all I want to do is jump your bones." She allows herself a little grin as she looks at me and shrugs one shoulder. "Maybe I just have to get it out of my system? One last little fling and I'll be fine?"

I smile big and toothy. "You know I'm game," I say with another laugh.

"God, don't _say_ that! You're supposed to be the voice of reason! Shit, Jake."

I have to laugh again. She's killing me with the swears and the stupid topic of conversation. I know it's all hypothetical anyway - there's no way she's gonna let me make love to her tonight, and even if she did, I don't think it'll solve her problem.

But...but _why_? Why does she feel this way? Is it simply hormones, or is it something bigger? Of course, I want it to be something bigger, but I know it's a fairly empty hope. I mean, she's married. And even if she is unhappy, she did say she feels she owes it to him to keep trying.

As I stand there trying to figure it out, she attacks me again. She almost knocks me down this time. She jumps on me from the front, wrapping her legs around my waist, and this time I'm not going to stop her, and I'm not letting her stop either. I'm a man, after all. I can only take so much. I carry her back to my darkening room, dump her on the bed, strip off my shirt, and fall on top of her - to begin the therapy.

And she doesn't stop me either. I'm on the job in mere seconds, kissing her cheeks, her forehead, her lips. I know, I know. She's married, and what we're doing is so morally wrong it's almost cliché. But as she gasps my name and I press my mouth to her neck, I realize that I just don't care. I mean, technically, they haven't consummated the relationship, right? Doesn't that mean they aren't really married? I could be wrong about that, but with her in my arms and her lips on me, I gotta say, I just can't bring myself to give a shit.

Her hands fumble urgently at my waistband, pulling it open and yanking the zipper down like it's a ripcord and she's falling to her death. I want to stop her, I really do, because I'm afraid she'll regret it later...but somehow I just can't.

"Don't undress her, don't undress her," I try to tell myself, but it's no use. Like they've got a mind of their own, my fingers deftly unbutton her blouse and slide it open to reveal the hint of a pink, lacy bra. Just the sight of it makes me want to blow in my now open pants, but I hold off and instead watch my hand, still on a trajectory all its own, slip the strap off her right shoulder.

Right then, I tear my gaze away from her emerging breast and glance up at her face - and I see it. It's that same look, the look she gave me at the quarry that day almost a year ago, that look that just cries out love. It's so real it's like I can reach out and grab it in my hand, and for a second it takes my breath away. Just like that day, something passes between us, something like electricity, and I swallow loudly before covering her mouth with mine and plunging my tongue between her parted lips like I just can't get enough.

Her hands are busy too, and she grabs either side of my pants and starts working them down, first one side and then the other, alternating until she's got them banded around my thighs and I can't really move. I don't want to break the kiss, I don't want to stop or even hesitate in any way for fear she'll call this thing to an abrupt halt, but I have to do something with my jeans. Without taking my mouth off hers, I reach down and work them the rest of the way off so all I have on is a thin pair of boxers. The underwear does absolutely nothing to hide the raging boner inside. While I'm doing this, she doesn't stop anything. In fact, the urgency increases, almost as if the absence of my pants spurs her on.

"God, I've missed you," she whispers between kisses. She's never been this aggressive with me, she's never once taken the lead in the handful of times we've made love. I can't really get used to it, but luckily Shea was a pretty determined little spitfire in the bedroom, so I'm not completely unprepared. I moan as I kiss her deeper, my hand betraying me yet again as it goes for the button on her jeans. She makes no protest or move to stop me, so I get those damn things off, or at least down past her knees, so I have access to the part I want the most.

But wait. Isn't this where the douche parasite has been performing his little experiments? I can't do this to her, can't take advantage of my girl like this - I don't care how turned on I am. "Baby," I whisper. "Slow down. We can't do this."

"Yes we can," she says before I get the words out of my mouth.

"No, we _can't_," I say a little louder, a little more forcefully.

She pulls back for a second and looks into my eyes. "Don't say we have to stop, Jake. I can't stand any more rejection," she says with a sob in her voice. "Please."

Well, fuck. Now what do I do? Here I am, a nineteen year old, red blooded American man with a hot, half naked girl in my bed begging me to do her. I'm trying to do the right thing, but if I do the right thing, I'm hurting her more than she's already been hurt. The bloodsucker is right - Bella doesn't know what's good for her. But I don't know what's good for her either.

"Honey, I don't want to hurt you," I say.

"That's exactly what Edward would say," she whimpers.

Okay, well I guess I don't have to...y'know...enter her, or whatever. I could just work the external stuff, make her feel good - get her over that hump, so to speak. No pun intended. So I say softly, "Okay, baby," and I leave her panties on.

"Good," she sighs, and her hands clench into fists in my hair, causing my dick, if possible, to get even harder. Okay, so I can't hold back, and I slip my hand over the panties covering her sex, catching my breath in a gasp when I feel how wet the fabric between her legs is.

"Jesus, Bells, you're soaked," I breathe, pressing my lips to her temple "Sssooo hot, baby."

She pulls away abruptly, looking at my face with a surprised expression. "I am?" she asks. "You gotta be kidding." She reaches down and feels for herself - driving me wild, by the way; I mean, there's nothing sexier than that - and a slow smile spreads over her face. "I knew it," she says, almost to herself.

"Knew what?" I ask.

"Well..." she bites her lip in that adorable way she has and seems to be distracted momentarily. "I haven't been able to get...like, _wet_...since _we_ were together. You and me."

What? I look at her like she's crazy. I can tell she's kind of embarrassed by the topic - though what she has to be embarrassed about after all we've been through, I don't know - but that whole thing doesn't seem right. Why can't she get aroused with her husband, for Chrissake?

"Wait a second," I say in a voice slightly louder than a whisper. "You're telling me that the vamp doesn't turn you on?"

She blinks up at me without an answer, then her face grimaces. "Sounds bad, huh?" she says.

"Yeah, it sounds bad," I say. "Bells, what's it gonna take?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, confused.

"I mean, what's it gonna _take_? Until you figure out that this guy is fucking poison to you?" I'm pissed, and I'm not trying to hide it. I mean, this is ridiculous. What does she need - a sign with ten foot letters? She can't make love to him. He's afraid he might kill her if he tries to make love to her. He's pushy and borderline abusive. She claims she's repulsed by him. And now she says he doesn't even turn her on? Just what the hell is holding her in this miserable relationship? And then something occurs to me.

"Hey. You said, 'I knew it.' _What_ did you know? You didn't really tell me," I say. The grimace comes back to her face then, and this time I can tell it's from embarrassment. "Come on. Tell me," I urge.

She sighs and rolls her eyes. "Okay, _fine_," she says suddenly. "I said I knew it because...because I knew I wasn't _sexually_ _frigid_, like he says. I _knew_ I could still get turned on, and I knew you'd be the one who could do it. Okay?"

Frigid? Where is he from, 1900? Oh, wait. Yeah, he is. "Baby, there's no such thing as sexually frigid. They disproved that shit in the 70s."

"Really? It's not, like – a thing?"

"Honey, I'm telling you, there's no such thing. That's something that was made up. He thinks that because he's from another century. And, Bells, let's face it. His body is cold. Frozen. No one wants a frozen lover. It's like having sex with a dead body. Humans want warmth. They gravitate to it. It's unnatural to crave something cold like that. Most normal people go toward warmth. And you're normal, as much as you don't like to think so. That's why I'm willing to bet," here I smile at her and raise my eyebrows, "that you're eventually gonna pick me. 'Cause I'm hot."

Her lips stretch up in a little grin, and I nuzzle into her neck playfully. "So you knew I could do it, huh? You knew I was the only one who could…" I lower my voice to a growl. "turn you on."

"You did it before," she says breathlessly. "All the time."

"All the time?" I repeat. "More like a _few_ times." I know how many times we did it. I wouldn't call it 'all the time.'

"No, Jake," she insists. "It was _all_ the time." She's looking away from me now, embarrassed again.

I make up my mind to tease it out of her. With a grin, I say, "You mean like when I was all studly, working on the bikes or the car?"

She blushes and doesn't look up. I take that as a yes, and I can't resist. "And at the bonfires? And when we'd hike?"

She still doesn't look up, but I see the side of her mouth lift. "Yes," she whispers. "All the time. The way you were with Billy. With your friends." And then finally she looks up at me from under her lashes. "At the quarry. On the cliffs. In your room. In _my_ room. Everything you do is sexy, Jake. All. The. Time."

Well. That's it. I can't do _this_ anymore. I can't hold back – I'm only human after all. I attack her lips with mine, thrusting my tongue into her eager, warm mouth and moaning my pleasure and frustration all at once. God, she's so sexy – so incredibly kissable, so fuckably hot. Again my hands have a mind of their own as they reach behind her and undo the wisp of a bra she has on. I slide the edges of her blouse apart and the bra slips off until I'm staring right at the soft, inviting swell of her breasts.

Just looking at them, I feel my mouth start to water – because they're begging to be licked, sucked, even bitten. I know how sensitive Bella's nipples are, and I dip down to flick my tongue over the tip of the closest one, causing her to hiss her breath in sharply between her teeth. "Omygod, Jake, _please_ don't stop," she begs, her eyes squeezed shut.

Stopping is the last thing on my mind, and if she keeps begging me for things like that, then I don't know if I'll be able to hold off diving right into her, with no thought to anything else. I continue to use my mouth to turn her on, sucking her nipple over my tongue and giving it the little flicks that I know make her insane.

And of course it works. See, all last summer, before we actually _did_ it, we had weeks – no, months – where all we did was everything else but. We held off for a long time on the actual act, but we never held off on all the rest. I'm a certified expert in driving this girl in my arms wild. I know just what pushes her buttons, and I'm pulling out all the stops tonight.

As I continue, she wiggles her jeans the rest of the way off and wraps her legs around my waist, pushing me closer from behind with her heels. Gladly I comply, my hand going back down to her drenched underwear, softly stroking her through the thin, wet cotton. Her hips buck up into my hand, and I can feel her thighs clench around it, not wanting to let me get away.

I work my fingers around the fabric and suddenly I'm touching her soft, warm, wet little honey pot, sliding my digits along the folds until I feel my goal – that hooded bundle where all the fun happens. I smooth my middle finger over it expertly, and she almost cries with relief. Shit, how long has it been for her? In another part of my mind, I wonder why the fuck her husband can't at least do _this_ for her.

Ah, fuck, who cares? If he did she wouldn't be here, and here is where I want her. I know she loves this next part, and I take my finger away for a second, then gently tap it back on her clit, oh so soft and easy – over – and over – and over. Just like I knew she would, she starts moaning, her hips thrusting with a frenzy, and I keep it up. I can make her cum this way – I've done it more times than I can count – but maybe I just want to get her right to that edge…

"Omygod, Jacob…_please_…" she sobs, her voice high-pitched and gasping.

A slow, knowing smile spreads across my face in spite of what I'm doing and like the arrogant bastard I am, I whisper, "Please _what_, babe?" I don't stop tapping, but I slow it down. Way down.

"Don't…don't make me beg you," she pleads. But I know this game. She _wants_ to beg. She _loves_ to beg.

I move my face away from her chest and press my lips to her neck right below her ear. "Mmmm, baby," I breathe, barely opening my lips. "Whaddya want?"

She doesn't hesitate an instant before she whispers with absolute urgency, "You, Jake. I want _you_."

Nope, not over yet. Again I softly goad her, "You want me _how_, honey?" I say it fast, because I know she's almost there, and I don't want to ruin it.

"In_side_ me," she whines. "Please Jake – God - _please_ fuck me."

Without a word, I hitch my boxers out of the way of my cock, poise myself over her and look into her eyes as I sink that thing up to the hilt in her tight, hot slice of heaven. I'm right where I've wanted to be for the past six months, and it feels just as good as I remember it.

She stares at me in wonder, like she can't believe I'm here, and I gotta say – I know the feeling. I can't believe we're doing this either. I'd been convinced that we'd never be together this way again; I'd thought it was an impossibility because of the marriage. But I'd been wrong. She stares at me with awe – and I stare right back, rapt, holding my breath like I'm about to plunge off one of the sea cliffs.

I haven't stopped moving, nor have I ended the teasing I'm doing to her clit, and her eyes roll back as she bucks back up into me. It's a weird angle for my wrist, but I know she loves that tapping thing, so I keep it up as I continue to thrust slow and easy. Nothing hard this time; despite our urgency, I still want to be careful with her. I don't want her to hurt.

But if the expression on her face is anything to go by, she's not hurt in the least. In fact, she's just about there, and I whisper into her ear urgently as I increase the speed of the pulsations I'm doing with my finger, "Let it go, baby. Cum for me."

She sucks her breath in for a second, holds it, and then her eyes open in surprise and her little kitty starts clenching me from inside as she falls over the edge. Ohhh, fuck – I can't hold off. I let go, hot ropes of jizz splashing into her, splashing back onto my hard, swollen cock, so that it feels ten times hotter now than it did a second ago. Nothing - _nothing_ feels better than making love to Bella. There's no comparison, no substitute that can hold a candle to this.

She doesn't take a second to recover and she's devouring my face with kisses, moaning, "Omygod, Jacob. Oh. My. God."

I chuckle, smoothing back her hair from her forehead and pressing a kiss there. "You okay, baby?"

"I'm perfect," she smiles, looking relaxed and drowsy. "I love it when you do that tapping thing."

"I know," I grin cockily, and she slaps me lightly on the chest. "But seriously, are you pissed? Do you regret it?"

"No, I'm not pissed," she says quickly. She doesn't comment on the regret.

I'm afraid to hope that she'll take this as a hint from fate that she should leave the leech. Is it possible? Could one instance of incredible sex make her change her mind? I think it can, but I'm naïve. I've been sure of things before and had them disappear like a puff of smoke. I trust my instincts with everyone and everything else but her.

A brief flash of memory, another night, different circumstances, skitters into my brain and suddenly I'm somewhere else, some _time_ else: The window is open, letting in the humid midnight air. Billy is here, asleep in his room. Bella and I are tangled together, desperate and hungry as only two teenagers can be. I hear the sounds of crickets and frogs float through the window. A gentle rain begins and our movements quiet, slow…then stop. We lie staring at the ceiling and listening to the soft drizzle hitting the roof. And she says, "Why do I feel like this is about to end?"

It happened then and I feel like it's happening now. Only that last time, I'd had no idea that her parasite was in the area, stalking her already, lying in wait for the perfect opportunity to snatch her away from me. This time I'm well aware of the sinister presence.

I knew going into this that the odds weren't in my favor. I know she's more than likely going back to her vamp. I don't profess to know why, especially after everything she's told me, but still, I think I'm prepared.

She snuggles into me just like she's always done after we finish making love, and I give a silent prayer of thanks that no one has to go home tonight. I remember those nights last summer, when after a marathon performance, we'd still have to get up and get her home. Now she's free to stay, Billy's not here, and we have the delicious freedom of sleeping in each other's arms. I coil my grip around her tightly, afraid she'll move away in the night, and kiss the top of her head.

"Jake?" she says plaintively.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Thanks."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N - Okay, story fans, here it is, the tenth and final chapter to Midnight or Later. I want to thank everyone who took the time to review, and also those who followed or favorited me or my story. I loved writing this and I'm a little sad it's over, to be truthful. I've enjoyed every minute, and I hope you have too. So without further ado, I present Chapter 10 - hope you like it...**

**Love, Brneyedgrrl**

Chapter 10

I sleep like the dead, and when I wake up, she's not in the bed with me. Like yesterday, I just want to stay asleep. I've found what makes me content, so why leave it? But I have to - I've got work and to be honest, I want to see Bella. I get up and dart into the bathroom for a fast shower, then make my way back to the bedroom to dress for work.

After putting on my dirty jeans from yesterday and my actual uniform shirt, which is a gray cotton thing with '_Jake_' written in script on a little oval patch over my left pec, I saunter into the kitchen. It's empty.

Empty. "Bells?" I say, and my voice echoes ominously.

Immediately I panic. Where the fuck did she go? I look out the kitchen window, and sure enough, the truck is gone. What's going on? Maybe she went for groceries - but didn't Quil say she stopped on the way back from Charlie's yesterday to go shopping? My eyes dart around the room, searching for some clue.

And they stop on the note resting on the counter.

My heart falls as I slowly walk to the counter and pick up the scrap of paper. It's written on the remnants of a white lunch bag that I'm sure she pulled out of my truck. There are still grease stains on it. As for the note, I'm afraid to look.

_Dear Jacob,_

_I'm sorry._

I can't read any more. I let the note flutter to the floor as I throw my head back and slap my palms over my face. "Fuck!" I scream. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

I'm so pissed off I can barely see. She went back to him. She fucking went _back_. I can't even believe it. I want to puke and punch something at the same time. I want to call her and chew her out. I want to go to Charlie's and demand he go pick her up. I want to drive my truck head-on into a tree. God dammit, I can't _believe_ she went back to him.

I thought I was prepared for this. I'm finding out the hard way that I'm not.

I can't read the rest of the note, I just can't. I can't even bring myself to pick it up off the floor. And I can't eat - I'll barf up anything I put in my stomach now. I slam the kitchen door hard enough to shake the entire house and the window glass quivers as I stomp out to my bike. I kick the thing started and take off like a madman, spewing gravel in my wake.

I'm not going to work, though. Fuck the stupid T-bird, fuck Sam, fuck everything. I roar my anger out over the tops of the trees, and suddenly I know just what I need. I skid the bike to a stop, laying her down in the process, and trip into the woods before I do it involuntarily right there on the side of the road. I don't even bother to undress, ruining my only uniform shirt as my wolf busts through in a puff of fabric scraps, blowing my clothes to smithereens.

The growl that comes from deep in my chest reverberates across the forest and animals cower when they see me. I feel like I'm going to explode - I've never felt such a murderous rage as this one. Those fuckin vamps better pray they don't cross my path now, because I feel like I could single-handedly take out the entire coven.

The only solution I can think of is to run. And as I run, my mind involuntarily goes back to last night.

Why?

Why would she make love to me like that and then leave? Why wouldn't she stick around? I could've helped her. I could have taken that broken, fragile girl and fixed her. Made her happy. Didn't we have amazing sex? Didn't we talk and laugh and...and _bond_ last night?

And what was that throwing herself at me bullshit? She couldn't keep her hands off me; she admitted it herself. Why would she _leave_ after that?

Abruptly, I'm aware of another presence in the forest, the scent of another wolf brother. Someone else is phased. Who would be out wolfing at this hour of the day? I try to calm myself for a second and concentrate.

Motherfucker.

It's Paul.

I can't hear him, because he's Sam's pack, but I know he's there. He doesn't seem to be on patrol – he's just lurking through the woods. What the fuck, man?

I'm sure he can sense that I'm in no mood for him or his shenanigans. And yet he remains there, somewhere nearby, waiting to see if I'll phase back or continue with this tear that I'm currently on.

I force myself to sit down and stop rushing through the trees like something's chasing me. I sit there, concentrating on my breathing, and somehow try to center myself. I can feel a confrontation coming on. Paul and I are combustible under the best of circumstances – any kind of showdown here may cause a fire that can't be extinguished.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him saunter, naked, into my line of vision. I know he just phased back; I can smell it on him. He looks at me warily, his eyes narrowing. What does this son of a bitch want?

"Jake," he greets me with a nod.

I grunt in response. Not much else I can do as a wolf.

"You okay?" he asks, stopping in front of me. We're eye level as he takes me in, and I can't quite read the look on his face. He waits a second, and when I don't answer in any way, he continues. "I saw you ruined your uniform shirt."

I chuff at him, a challenge, raising my chin and not breaking eye contact. "What of it?" I want to say, and I think he gets the gist.

"Well, Sam won't like it," he says, finally averting his gaze. He kicks a toe into the bracken on the forest floor.

Now I let a tiny growl escape. "Fuck Sam," I'm thinking. Surprisingly, Paul chuckles.

"You know, it's funny," he says. "I can pretty much tell exactly what you're saying, even though you're wolf now. That sounded like a 'fuck Sam.'" He throws a sidelong glance my way.

I want to laugh, because that's funny. Paul thinks so too, because he continues to look at me with a half-smile lifting one side of his face. "Come on, man. Phase back. Talk to me. Even if we are from different packs, we're brothers, Jake."

I stand up, shaking my head and making a move to walk away from him, but I feel his hand on my shoulder as I turn away. "Jake," is all he says. In that one word, I hear – from _Paul_ mind you – care and concern and…something like love. Like the love you have for a brother. It almost brings a tear to the wolf – but wolves don't cry. I turn back to him and one glance reveals the compassion in his face. He wants to help me. Defeated, I shake my massive head and shimmer down, letting the wolf go as I retake my human form.

"What the fuck happened?" he asks, his hand still on my shoulder.

"She went back," I say hoarsely.

He pats my shoulder now, then drops his hand to his side. "You kind of knew that was going to happen, didn't you?"

I look at him, the pain plain in my face, and his breath catches. "Holy fuck," he says, his eyes round and his mouth popping open. "You gotta be shitting me. How long?" Ah, shit. He knows.

"What difference does it make?" I ask rhetorically.

"Does Sam know?"

"Not that I'm aware," I answer, shaking my head.

"How did you hide it all this time?" he asks.

"It didn't happen until after I claimed my Alpha. After that, Sam couldn't read me anymore, and I did a pretty good job of keeping it under wraps. My pack doesn't even know – except Seth and Embry."

"Jesus, dude." The news has completely blown him away. "How the fuck are you dealing with this? I mean, I…" he's at a loss for words. "Shit dude, I'm _sorry_. We didn't know."

Now I'm consoling him. I reach out and pat his back. "It's okay, Paul. That was by design. I didn't want _anyone_ to know. It was only by mistake that Seth and Embry found out."

"Does _she_ know?"

"Bella? No way," I answer.

"So Shea…?" he asks with a shake of his head.

I huff a humorless laugh. "No fuckin clue, and she's gone now anyway." My eyes flick up to his face. "Don't _even_ ask if you can call her."

He cracks up and so do I. I know that was the next question out of his mouth. We both turn as one and start walking back to where I left my bike.

"You going to work?" he asks me.

"I couldn't concentrate if I had to," I answer.

"I'll tell Sam," he volunteers.

"Keep it short – I don't want the whole story getting out," I say.

"I'll be careful," he promises. We walk silently for a few minutes, then he says, "What are you gonna do?"

I shrug. "I don't know what I _can_ do. I think I've tried everything."

"You fucked her last night, didn't you?" Paul asks, true to the asshole he is. I roll my eyes.

"I _made love_ to her last night, Paul. It's called making love if you actually love the person," I say testily.

"Whatever," he answers, unfazed. "And that didn't do it, huh?"

"Evidently not," I say, still so pissed off I could spit nickels.

We're coming up on the bike now, and I see that Paul's pickup is there, parked behind where my bike is lying on the side of the road. Right next to the pile of scraps that was my clothes. "Fuck," I say. "I don't have anything to wear."

Paul laughs, then pats my shoulder again. "I have a pair of shitty sweats in the back of my truck. You can have 'em," he says.

"Thanks," I say, my tone somewhat despondent. I take the raggedy gray sweat pants and shake the leaves and dirt off them.

"Come on, man. It'll be okay," he says, attempting to placate me.

"How will it be okay, Paul? She's married to someone else. A motherfucking vamp. How the _fuck_ will that ever be okay?"

He looks at me as we pull our pants back on. "I don't know, man. You're right. I don't know how it'll ever be okay. That just...sucks."

We lean against his pickup and he pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, offering me one. I decline with a shake of my head, and he pulls one out of the pack with his mouth and lights it. He looks like the badass he is, leaning up against the truck and smoking like a thug. I have to laugh. I can't believe Paul Lahote is here comforting me.

When he hears the little chuckle, he glances over at me. "What?" he says, his eyes narrowing.

I shake my head at him. "I'm just kind of surprised. You sort of turned out to be human."

He gives me a derisive grin. "Hey, man. We're bros. You know that. In spite of everything, I got your back."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Neither one of us looks up - we're embarrassed by the obvious display of emotion. Paul and I have never been close. There's always been a brawl between us, bubbling under the surface. It only came to blows once, early on, when I had to protect Bella from him, and things haven't been the same since. But if I was being truthful, I'd have to admit that we'd never gotten along, even as kids. It's surprising to me to see him act like a friend to me. I'm grateful he was looking out for me today. He may have prevented me from doing something stupid. Like going chasing after something I'll never be able to get.

As we stand there contemplating the situation, I hear something vibrating close by. It's not Paul's phone, because he hears it too and checks his pockets to reassure himself that it's not a call for him. I look around, thinking it must be my phone, blown from my jeans as I phased earlier. The vibrating stops and I look over at Paul.

"Want me to call your phone so we can find it?" he asks.

"Thanks," I answer, shrugging off the pickup and walking out to the woods where I think I phased. I see the remnants of shredded material that used to be my clothes, so I know I'm close. Paul calls my phone and I can hear it vibrating - and then I see the glow under a couple of brown, crispy leaves. I bend to pick it up.

"Found it!" I call back to him. "Thanks!"

I carry it back to the side of the road where the pickup and my bike are parked, scrolling through the calls to see who was trying to reach me. The number that just called me is one I don't recognize, but it's from the area. I recognize the area code and the prefix. I just don't know who it belongs to.

"Who was it?" Paul asks.

"I don't know," I say. "I don't recognize the number. It's local, though."

"Lemme see," he says, holding out his hand. I give it to him and he looks at it, squinting. "Isn't this Charlie's number?" he asks.

"I don't think so," I answer, confused. "I have Bells' home number in there. It would come up like that if it was Charlie, wouldn't it? Besides, I think I know that number. I don't think this is it."

"No, not his home number. The station," Paul says.

"The station? The police station?" I clarify.

"Yeah...I, uh...happen to know the number offhand for some reason." He grins at me cockily.

"Are you sure?" I ask, though it would be no surprise that Paul would know the number to the police station by heart. He's been there more than a few times.

"Pretty sure. You should call back," Paul advises.

"I hope you're right," I say, touching the phone number to call it back.

It rings a few times until an official sounding recording comes on. "You have reached the Forks Police Department. If this is an emergency, please touch one or hang up and call 9-1-1. If this is a non-emergency issue, please touch two. Thank you." I touch two like I'm told and Charlie picks up.

"Swan," he says tersely.

"Charlie, it's Jacob Black. Did you call me?"

"Yeah, Jake, was that you in the black pickup at my place this morning? It sounded like someone came in for a minute around 5 am, but when I looked out the window, the truck took off."

I sigh. "Wasn't me, Charlie," I tell him. "It must have been Bella."

"Bella?" he asks, surprised. "Why would she be out at that hour?"

"I have no clue," I answer. "She must have left early today. I didn't even know she was gone until I got up around six."

"You mean she didn't come back to your place?" he asks.

"She wasn't there when I left a little bit ago," I say.

"Well, where is she, then?"

"I don't know, Charlie," I say, my voice hopeless.

Charlie's silent for a second. "Uh, what's wrong, Jake?" he asks.

"Nothing," I tell him morosely.

"She left, didn't she? Went back to Cullen?"

"I don't know, Charlie," I say. "I don't know. All I know is she's not there."

"I'm sorry, Jacob. You never should've gotten mixed up in this." He sounds like he just lost his last friend.

"I knew what I was getting myself into," I answer. "Look, Charlie, I gotta go." I can't listen to his sympathy now. It will make me crazy. I have to do something - I don't know what, but I can't just sit here on the phone.

"Okay, Jake. I'll see you around," he answers, and we hang up.

Paul squints at me around his cigarette smoke. "What'd he say?" he asks.

"He wanted to know if I'd been at his place this morning at like five o'clock."

Paul chuckles. "Yeah, like you'd roll outta bed that early," he comments sarcastically. He flicks his cigarette across the road.

"No, but evidently Bella did. It had to be her; Charlie saw my truck at his place."

"She has your truck?" he asked, his eyebrows meeting as he blows out that final puff. "I thought I saw your truck on the rez earlier. I was out on patrol this morning. It had to be after five. It was starting to get light out."

"What?" I say. Now I'm really confused.

"I thought it was you, and you were just running out for milk or something. Looked like it was on its way back to your place."

Okay, now that was weird. Why would she come back after she left? "Are you sure?" I ask Paul.

"Positive. The truck was on the road that goes to your place. I didn't think anything of it until now."

He looks at me as I shake my head. I'm completely thrown by this. I just don't get it. "Didn't she leave a note or something?" he asks.

I look away quickly so he can't see my face, but he catches my expression anyway. "What is it, Black? Tell me."

Without looking at him, I say wretchedly, "Yeah, she left a note."

"Well?" he asks expectantly. "What did she say?"

"All I read was the first line," I admit, feeling stupid.

Paul rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Genius," he mutters. "What did the first line say?"

"It said, 'Dear Jake, I'm sorry.'"

"Ohhh," he drags the word out like a sigh. "Wow, that sucks. Yeah, I probably would've stopped reading there too." He stands there a second, thinking. "So you just left, huh?"

"Yep," I said tersely.

Paul seems like he wants to get going, and I realize it's almost time for him to go to work. "You gonna be okay?" he asks.

"Eventually," I answer.

"You gonna be okay today if I go to work?" He looks at me earnestly, and once again I'm struck by his actual humanity. He really gives a shit – it's refreshing.

"Yeah, dude. And thanks. I appreciate it."

"Anything I can do to help," he says, swinging the door of his truck open with a glance at me over his shoulder. "Don't do anything dumb." He climbs in the cab, shrugs a shirt on and starts the truck with a rumble. He does a three-point turn so he's facing the other direction and takes off with a wave.

Quiet settles over the woods as I stand there, watching the truck disappear. I don't even have any shoes on to ride my motorcycle, but maybe my boots survived the phase. I jam my hands in the pockets of the sweats and scuff into the forest, kicking at the underbrush in hopes of finding something.

After a few minutes, I see one boot intact. A few feet away is the other one, and while the lug sole is still one piece, parts of the upper are torn and unusable. Still, the laces are intact, and I pull them on and wrap the laces from the damaged boot around the part that's supposed to go over my ankle. It'll do for the short ride home.

Because I've decided to go home. The initial murderous anger is gone, and all that's left is defeat. I knew this was coming – I just didn't know it would devastate me this thoroughly.

I find the little 'Jake' patch from my uniform shirt and shove it in my pocket. At least Sam won't have to replace that. Then I get back on the bike and head toward home.

As I drive, my mind once again goes over the past few days. I thought I did everything right, but maybe I came on too strong, or not strong enough. And then it hits me. I did what I was supposed to do. I got her to go back to the bloodsucker. She went willingly. Maybe this is what will make her happy. And her happiness is what I want – what I need – what I _crave_.

I'll have to talk to her to find out for sure if this _is_ what she wants, if she's happy with the situation now. But for the time being, I can try to take a small amount of comfort, a small amount of pride, that I was able to help her. After all, that's what I'm here for - to make her happy, to give her what she needs.

I drive back home slowly, looking around the forest with new eyes. Maybe my girl is happy. Would things look different if she is? Will the trees be greener, the sky bluer? Would the water be wetter? It should be, at least to me. My world revolves around her, so why shouldn't everything be better if she's content and happy? Nothing really looks different to me, though. I hope that's not a sign of how things are with her.

I'm home before I know it, and I go back inside reluctantly. The note is in there, and I don't want to see it taunting me. As soon as I walk into the kitchen, my eyes are drawn to the spot on the floor and the note is lying there, just where I left it. I kick it under the fridge so I don't have to see it, but still I know it's there. It bothers me, so I leave the kitchen and go to the bedroom, strip the bed, and put the sheets in the washing machine. I need to get rid of every trace of her or I'll go nuts. Pouring bleach into the dispenser, I set the washer for hot and add detergent. There won't be any of her scent left on these sheets if I can help it. While they're washing, I decide that cleaning the bathroom might be a good idea. I remove her strawberry shampoo, resisting the desire to uncap it and take an enormous whiff. I put it in a grocery bag and drop it in the little trash can on the floor, along with her lotion, her razor, and whatever else she left behind. I drop the towels in the hall – they're headed for the laundry too. With a vengeance, I scrub the tub, the shower stall and the sink. I swish a brush around in the toilet. Even the floor gets a once-over. For good measure, I rip down the shower curtain and put that with the towels. Everything she may have touched is getting washed. Last I get glass cleaner and some paper towels and wipe down the mirror, the faucet and the counter. The bathroom sparkles, and, done with that, I move the sheets through to the dryer and put the towels and stuff in the wash.

The bedroom's next, and I put away anything that's lying out, piling dirty clothes and dishes outside the bedroom door in the hall as is my habit. I carefully wrap the cords around my game controllers and put all the games away in their respective cases, arranging them alphabetically by system. The glass cleaner comes into play again as I wipe down the mirror over my dresser, the screen of the little TV I use for video games, and, using a dust rag, swipe the dust from the top of my chest of drawers and the headboard. The rug needs vacuuming, so I run that sucker in there, and by then the sheets are dry so I can remake the bed. I put all my clothes in one load – I'm a guy, remember? – and get the towels into the dryer. Now it's time for the family room.

This only takes a few minutes. It involves collecting the glasses and plates that I've left on the coffee table, and picking up the stray chip bags and pop-tart wrappers. I fold the one blanket that Shea always used and put it in the corner on a footstool. I run the vacuum and dust, though it doesn't really need it, and move on to the kitchen, the part I'm dreading the most.

I don't know why the kitchen is the worst of it, but it is. The dishes we used last night are still in the drainer. The smell of her lasagna still lingers in the air. I open the door and let the wet, cool air in from outside, raising the windows for good measure. I wash all the stray dishes from my room and the family room, put them away, wipe down all the surfaces, clean the already spotless stove, and fill a bucket with hot water and vinegar to wash the floor.

It's while I'm on my hands and knees, tackling the cracked linoleum which will never be really clean, that I see the corner of that fuckin note waving at me from under the fridge. I should really move the fridge and clean under it, I think, but I don't want to see that note.

Then I figure, why not? I already know what it says – _Dear Jake, Thanks for getting me to the point where I can fuck Edward. See ya around. Sincerely, Bella_. The rest of the floor is done, so I get up and shove the fridge out of its place, pushing it as far as its cord will let it go so I can get the floor underneath. There's a hard layer of dust under there, and lots of pieces of cereal and macaroni - even a few hair ties, probably mine from when my hair was long. I sweep everything into the dust pan, then dump it in the trash before picking up the note. I set it on the counter and wash the dirty floor under the fridge, let it dry, and push the fridge back where it belongs. The kitchen looks great now – the whole house does. I go back to the laundry, take out the towels and shower curtain, put my clothes in the dryer, and go back in the bathroom to hang the towels and shower curtain. Everything smells fresh and clean – and nothing smells like Bella. Yes, I know I'm stalling. I really don't want to read that note. I don't want to, but I have nothing else to occupy me now – so I will.

I go back to the kitchen and set up a pot of coffee. I'm kind of hungry but nothing sounds good to me, so I'm not planning to eat – but I do need a cup of coffee. I look at the clock and can't believe it's almost one – but I'm a guy and it takes me a long time to clean a house properly, even one as small as mine. As the coffee percolates away, I pick up the note and stare at the reverse side, waiting until the coffee's done to turn it over.

The coffee maker bubbles to a stop and I pour myself a cup, adding creamer and sugar even though I don't usually use either. I'm stalling. I don't want to look. Then, disgusted with myself for being such a pussy, I sit at the table, turn the greasy paper over and start reading, my heart pounding.

_Dear Jacob,_

_I'm sorry._

_I'm sorry for everything that happened in the past eight months. I thought that this was what I wanted. I wanted it for so long that I didn't even think when he came back. I just left, with no thought to you. I'm so sorry, and I see now after the past two months, the six months before that, and especially after last night that I really can't be happy with him. Plus…well, I've missed you more than I thought I could these past eight months, Jake. Almost as much as I missed Edward at first, only worse in a way because what I missed with Edward was only an idea of love, and what I missed with you was real._

_I have a few things to do today, a few loose ends to tie up, but I will try to be back before you get home from work. I hope everything is okay with us. I love you, Jake._

_Bells._

What the actual fuck? Is this some kind of a joke? I sit looking at it, my coffee untouched, staring like I think something will pop off the page and cause everything to make sense. Is she saying that she's leaving him? Is that what this note says? Can't she put the actual words down - 'I'm leaving Edward' – would that be too much to ask? Or am I reading something into it that's not there?

Okay, wait. She says she can't be happy with him. Does that mean she's leaving him? I mean, to me it does. It means she wants to leave. Right? And she says she's missed me. That has to be good for me…isn't it? God dammit, I'm more confused now than I was before I read it!

But it says she's coming back, and I cling to that like my dying breath. So what should I do? I wish I had someone I could talk to about this, but Seth is at school and Embry's gone, and those are the only two who know the entire story - besides Paul, and I'm sure as hell not talking to him about it. I wonder again where she is and what she's doing. Loose ends…what's that mean? Is she okay wherever she is?

I consider calling her, but I dismiss that thought immediately. If I'm reading this note wrong and she's not really coming back, calling her would be a big mistake. And to tell the truth, I don't necessarily want to find out if she's leaving him or not. I'm scared that she'll say she isn't, and I'm getting my hopes up for nothing.

I imagine she's probably at the crypt, telling the douche of a husband her decision, whatever that may be. Involuntarily, my face changes to a tiny grin, envisioning his utter confusion when he sees my truck drive up to his house. I think of the all-consuming devastation he'll feel if she does tell him she's leaving and the smile fades. Yes, I hate that guy. I hate him with a passion that I can't compare to anything else in my life. But again, I know the desolation of losing her, and I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. Which is him.

I glance at the clock and see that it's after one, and suddenly I'm ravenously hungry. The coffee cup in front of me is empty, though I don't remember drinking it. I'd go to a drive-thru but Bella has my truck and it's kind of hard to go through a drive-thru on a motorcycle. So I get up and pull open the fridge, looking for some leftovers.

The first thing I see is the lasagna from last night and it makes me a little sad – almost kills my appetite in fact, and that's not easy. But then I see other stuff, like groceries I know I didn't buy and something – is that steak? – marinating, balanced on the top of a carton of eggs. It's a clear casserole dish and it's covered in plastic wrap. I know it wasn't there last night, because I wrapped the lasagna and put it away in the fridge when we were cleaning up dinner. So that means she did this today, before she left, and I see no instructions for dinner – so she _must_ be coming back. I've gotta be right about this, don't I?

I take the lasagna out and start a big square heating in the microwave. Pouring myself a glass of milk, I sit at the table and eat it before it has time to cool. It burns my mouth, but I feel like I haven't eaten in weeks – which is weird, because earlier today I didn't want to eat a thing. After I finish, I quickly clean up and decide to run by work and see if Sam has anything he wants me to do for a few hours.

I ride my bike there, noticing for the first time how nice the weather is. Well, at least it's not raining, but it seems nice outside, like the gray cloud cover is somehow less ominous than usual at this time of year. The air seems almost balmy, though I know the temperature hasn't risen measurably. I just feel good, and I actually start humming as I'm riding along.

When I get to the garage, the place is bustling with activity as usual. I check in at my computer and see that several parts I ordered have come in. I grab the boxes off the shelf in the inventory closet after checking them against the order sheets, and make my way out into the garage proper to continue working on the T-bird.

I'm busily opening boxes and placing things meticulously in order on a floor tarp when Sam comes up behind me and puts one hand on my shoulder. "You okay, Jake?" he asks, his voice dripping concern.

Immediately I'm on the alert. Why is Sam so worried about me? I'm instantly suspicious – did Paul say something? He told me he wouldn't.

"Fine, Sam, why?" I ask with studied nonchalance.

"I was told you were having a bad time recently," Sam says, neatly evading the question.

"I'm okay," I say, watching him warily. "I was feeling a little under the weather today, but I'm good now."

"You sure?" he asks.

"Yeah." I'm decisive as I go on. "Now if you don't mind, I have some things I'd like to get done before I knock off. Is it okay if I stay until around five?" I'm not being testy, just asking in case he wants me to finish out my sick day.

"That's fine by me, as long as you're okay," Sam answers, overly considerate.

"I'm fine." Now I know Paul must have said something. Why would he tell Sam, of all people? He's the Alpha of the other pack – my problem is not his business. I glance over at Paul, but he has his head buried under the hood of a black Trans-Am and he stays hidden. I turn back to the T-bird, but I see Paul peek around the hood from the side view mirror on the car. He looks guilty all right.

I decide to leave it alone, though. No sense in starting a confrontation – and besides, I don't want to pick a fight with Paul. I feel a kind of fellowship with him now, like our bad blood from before is gone. I don't want to fuck that up.

So what if Paul told Sam about me imprinting on Bella? It isn't the end of the world. Oh, wait. Did I forget to mention that? Yeah, that's what Paul and I were talking about this morning when he looked at me all surprised. It's what Seth and I were talking about Sunday afternoon, when I told him I couldn't help taking care of Bella and he told me he knew I couldn't. We were referring to the imprint.

It happened the day we went to the quarry. That was the best day I've ever had for a lot of reasons – and that's why I still remember it so fondly. Though the morning of that day isn't one I'd care to repeat, the rest of the day was awesome.

It had started out like any other day did before I claimed my Alpha. Sam had me and Embry on patrol, and we were looking for the redheaded female who had been after Bella. We'd spotted her and told Sam we could corner her, but he wanted us to wait. Because of his bad decision, the redhead got away. This pissed me off no end, and Embry and I went to confront Sam.

It doesn't matter now what was said or why – just that there were nasty words exchanged, and Sam threw down the gauntlet and told me to either follow his orders or leave the pack. I know he didn't think I'd do it, but because I could, I went ahead and claimed my Alpha and Embry and I took off on our own. What we didn't know at the time was that Seth had phased right at the end of the confrontation with Sam, and he'd heard it all. He'd decided right away that he wanted to be a member of my pack, and he'd been coming to tell me while I was getting away from Sam and planning my pack with Embry. The first thing I wanted to do, though, was see if Bella was okay, what with that vamp loose in the area, and Embry and I went to find her as wolves. I remember Seth phasing in, but at the time I didn't know about the separate pack minds, so I thought nothing of it. And when I saw Bells…well, the imprint just happened, and I suddenly saw everything in a different light. It was as if my whole reason for being switched in that instant. Every second since then has been completely consumed with her. She didn't know, but Embry was there and since we were connected by the pack mind, he knew exactly what had happened. We talked about it later, and he said it was like I was lit up from inside.

You have to understand that Bella and I were essentially dating at the time, that the bloodsucker was not even on my radar, and that there was a very real feeling between the two of us that our love could last forever. It was as natural as eating when you're hungry – I wanted her and she wanted me and we loved each other. Nothing had changed yet to make us think that our love was threatened. To our friends and parents, we were just kids dealing with our first puppy-love, but we knew…even then…that it was real.

I'll never forget it, I'll tell you that. I realized right away that with her being my imprint, she could be used as a weapon against me, so I swore Embry and Seth to secrecy. I also vowed not to tell her if I could help it, and so far I haven't. I don't know if it would've made a difference eight months ago, when Cullen returned, if she knew about the imprint – but wouldn't that be forcing her hand anyway? I want her to want me for me, not because she feels obligated. But that does explain why I wanted to keep it under wraps. At the time I thought Sam and I were enemies, not understanding that Sam didn't want that in any way.

I took her to the quarry that very afternoon, and we spent the whole day together and I was on top of the world. It was the summer of my senior year in high school, I'd just graduated, and my life spread out in front of me like a golden carpet – I'd be the Alpha, I'd have the girl I loved at my side, and nothing would be able to conquer me. That's how I went through the entire charmed summer – living like a king, happy and content. And then Cullen came back and ruined my life, and I'd been depressed ever since – or at least until last night, when I thought I got my girl back. But even now, my outlook has changed. Something is working on me from the outside, something I can't explain. Something is making me feel friendly toward Paul, something is causing me to enjoy the weather, something is keeping me as hungry as I used to be when I was the Alpha with my imprint at my side. What is it?

I push the thoughts away. I can't think about it now, so I concentrate on the car and do my work until 4:45 rolls around. Then I busy myself with leaving everything in order so tomorrow I can pick up where I left off. As usual, this takes me about ten minutes, leaving me five minutes to check my emails one last time before I go. I do it slowly, reluctant now to leave. What if I'm wrong and she's not there? Or worse, what if she is and it's only to tell me goodbye? I'll never recover from that.

So it's with trepidation that I start my bike and ride home. I take it slow, wanting to savor the feeling I have now, the one where I think she's coming back to stay. I round the bend to my place and get my first clue that things might actually go my way for a change: my truck is parked in front of my place. I hope with everything in me that she didn't just drop it off and leave.

But I can hear her in the kitchen, bustling around with dinner, humming as she does. I smell the steak starting to char, asparagus and potatoes cooking, and something chocolate that she might have made for dessert. Oh, God, if you're there, please. Please keep her here, keep her happy, and keep her with me where she belongs.

I walk the bike to the shed and put her away, then I casually mosey into the house. I don't want her to think I'm hanging too much hope on this, but I'm just about busting when I get to the kitchen and she turns to me. In an instant, I'm almost knocked down again with the force of her flinging herself into my arms.

"Jake," she gasps. "It seems like it's been forever!"

I hold her close, my huge hand pressing her head to my shoulder, and take in the scent of her. I bury my face in her hair and inhale. Ahhh yes, she's here. She's in my arms. We're together again, where we belong. The only question is, how long will it last?

"Bells?" I say quietly, confusion plain in my tone.

"Oh, I missed you today," she breathes, and my body, which I didn't even realize I was holding so tensely, relaxes.

"Bella, baby, where you been?"

She sighs, collapsing into my arms further. "Well, I've been having the day from hell," she answers cheerfully, with a little laugh in her voice. "But I'm here now, so it's all good." She pulls away and looks up into my eyes. I can see in the lines of her face that she's had a rough go of it today. "Let go, baby, the steaks need to be turned."

My arms part involuntarily as I contemplate her words. Baby. She hasn't called me that in…well, in eight months. Am I her baby again?

"Why was it the day from hell?" I ask quietly, not daring to hope.

She expertly flips the sizzling steak over on the stovetop grill and turns to me with a grimace. She points with the tongs to the table. I glance over and see an official-looking manila envelope. "Take a look," she says ruefully.

I step slowly to the table and pick up the envelope, folding back the flap and sliding out the sheaf of paper inside. The top sheet starts like this:

IN THE CIRCUIT COURT OF THE TWELFTH JUDICIAL CIRCUIT OF

CLALLAM COUNTY, WASHINGTON

IN RE THE MARRIAGE OF

Isabella Marie Swan Cullen

VS

Edward Masen Cullen

SIMPLIFIED PROCEDURE JOINT AFFADAVIT REGARDING

SEPARATION OF THE PARTIES, DIVISION OF PROPERTY AND

WAIVER OF BIFURCATED HEARING

I stand staring at it like a first grader who can't understand the big words, but I know what this is. It's a declaration of separation, the first step in getting a divorce in Washington State. It has the stamp of a notary public on the bottom, all signed and official looking. I flip through to the end and see that it's not only signed by Bella, but it also has Edward's signature on it. It's a decree of separation. They're separated. Legally.

I narrow my eyes at her, shaking my head. "Bells?" I ask.

She glances at me over her shoulder and shrugs. "It's time, Jake," she says.

"You're leaving him?" I clarify.

"We're getting divorced," she admits. Her voice is sad as she continues. "Another teen marriage statistic. It just…it's not working out. Neither one of us is happy. Honestly, we talked it over for a long time, Jake, and even Edward admits that it can't work like this. If he changed me, that would be one thing. But he won't and I don't want him to anyway. The timing is bad. I can't pretend that I'm dead, leave all my friends and family forever." She looks up at me, her heart in her eyes. "I can't leave _you_. That's the main problem right there. I can't leave you Jake. I love you too much."

Is she really saying this? God damn, today has been a freakin roller coaster. It started out with her being gone, and now look at how it's ending. If this is what I think it is, I'm about ready to jump for joy.

She's staring at me with this little grin on her face. "Why do you seem so surprised? Didn't you get my note?"

I look at her silently for a long minute. "Your note," I say. "Your note confused me."

"Why?" she asks, her beautiful face befuddled. "I thought I was pretty clear."

"Well, I guess if I'd read the whole note from the get-go, instead of just the first line, I might have understood. As it was, I was under a misapprehension until about one o'clock this afternoon."

"What?" she gasps. She turns and picks the note up, which I now see is lying on the counter, carefully folded up. I see her lips move as she reads the opening line. She groans as her head falls back, her eyes closed. "All you read was the 'I'm sorry' part?" she asks, pain plain in her face.

I nod. "Yeah. I thought that was it and we were over. Again."

"After last _night_?" she questions, her voice going all high and squeaky.

I stare at her silently for a second, and then I say, "What the fuck am I supposed to think, Bells? You were gone. There was a note. You're _married_. And, um…let's just say, you haven't been the most stable person in town ever since you left me for him." I'm not mad, but I want her to know at least _part_ of what she's put me through – today, the last few weeks – the last eight months.

She looks sad, but I've been sad for…well, it seems like forever. She needs to know that her actions have consequences, imprint or not. "I don't want you to be upset about this, Bells, but you gotta know that this has been _killing_ me. And not just today either, or the last few days. Ever since you left. It's been like a slow knife twisting into my chest. I don't know how much longer I could've taken it."

Her eyes are wet when she looks back up at me. "I thought you and Shea…"

"Shea and I had a physical relationship and nothing more," I say shortly, looking down at the floor. I raise my eyes to hers. "And you know it."

She looks heartbroken, and I feel like I've gotten my point across. "I can't tell you how sorry I am, Jake," she says with a catch in her voice. "I don't even know how to make it up to you."

I've given her enough shit for now. In a jovial voice I say, "You can start by putting those steaks on a plate. I'm starving." The wolf is back and hungrier than ever.

She tosses me a sad smile and sets to work getting dinner on the table. I scarf it down so fast I barely taste it. "So Bells," I say around a maw-ful of mouthwatering meat. "What time did you leave here today? I think that's what scared me the most; that you weren't here when I woke up."

She makes a face. "I'm sorry, Jake, I thought you'd at least read the whole note," she says ruefully. "I woke up early, like really early. Four o'clock or something. My internal clock is completely screwed up from living with people who never sleep." I sneer at her classifying them as 'people.' She ignores me and continues. "And I already knew what my decision was going to be, after…after everything." She looks up at me with a sigh. "And it isn't just sex, either, Jacob. It's everything about you. I can't be without you. I was without Edward for eleven months – and I survived because of you. Those eight months without you were torture. That's why nothing ever worked with Edward. I couldn't. I couldn't do anything with him – it felt like I was cheating on you, and it seemed like such a betrayal…" Her voice falters, catches on the words. She's getting teary again. As her imprint, I know what she needs. She needs to make amends somehow or she's gonna have a hard time getting past this. I know what to do. It might be hard for me, a little bit against my nature – though not too much – but it has to be done. And it should only take one session. I don't know how I'm so clear on this, but I am. It's some Alpha-imprint shit that I just know instinctively. I feel myself getting hard just thinking about it. Maybe it's not as against my nature as I think.

"Okay, babe, okay. I get it. So you left at four am?"

She struggles to recover. "No, I got up and I wrote you the note," she says after a second. "Then I got dressed really quiet and I took your truck and went to Charlie's to pick up a few things and to leave him a note."

Leave him a note? He didn't mention any note. "I talked to your dad today, Bells. He didn't say anything about a note."

She lets out a little, "Tsk!" and rolls her eyes to the ceiling. "_God_! Can't anyone do anything they're supposed to? I leave notes and no one reads them!"

"Where did you leave it?" I ask, mystified. How could Charlie miss a note, especially when he thought someone had been in the house?

"In the fridge," she answers. "He always goes in the fridge before work! To get his lunch. When I lived there, I always left his notes in the fridge."

I sit for a second, thinking. "Uh, Bells, he doesn't really have the same routines anymore that he had when you were there. He probably goes to Lila's for lunch. I went there with him Saturday, and they act like he owns the place when he walks in there. I have a feeling he's there for a lot of his meals now."

"Oh." She seems subdued, and a little sad, so to take her mind off it, I try to get her back on track.

"And after you went to Charlie's, did you come back to the rez? Paul said he thought he saw you after five driving toward my place."

She thinks. "Yeah, that had to be around quarter to six. After I went in Charlie's fridge, I decided to set a steak marinating for our dinner." She looks up at me with this really adorable shy expression. Then her face changes, and she narrows her eyes at me. "Hey, didn't you see the steak marinating? Wasn't that a clue for you that I was coming back?"

I snort and shake my head. "Bella, you _weren't here_. I read the note, or at least the first part, and it said, 'I'm sorry' so I pretty much thought that was it. And you think I went right to the refrigerator and made myself a big breakfast after that? No, hon. I phased. Almost involuntarily. And I ran through the forest like I was being chased by Satan himself." I say it nice, but the words are harsh and I can't help that. It's what happened.

She blinks rapidly and I realize she might cry. I want to avoid that - I hate when girls cry and especially when Bella cries - so I ask her, "And then what? You went to see the leech?"

Again she struggles a little to recover. "Yeah," she says with a little sniffle. "Yeah, I went to see Edward and tell him my decision."

"How'd he take it?" I ask, surprising myself that I sort of care.

She folds her lips in as she looks at the table and sighs. Then she looks up at me and answers, "I guess okay. I mean, he was upset, but I think he'll recover. He always said from the beginning that I shouldn't be with him. That it was too dangerous, that it wasn't good for me. I was the stubborn one."

"You both had your moments," I say derisively. "And then it was off to the Clallam County Courthouse?"

"Yeah, we both went. That was kind of hard. The last time we were there was to get our marriage license. But...this had to be done. So it was sort of bittersweet. He helped me a lot. I was upset, but he kept telling me it was for the best, that we'd both be okay, you know. All that crap people say."

I'm surprised the vamp found it in his cold, dead heart to comfort her, but then again, he did always love her. He just had a fucked up way of showing it. Him and his ice.

I finish up the last of Bella's steak, since she only ate part of hers, and inhale the rest of the asparagus. Dinner was great. Shea always made these gourmet meals, but I'm a meat and potatoes kind of guy. I don't need fancy. She gets up to clear the dishes and I don't stop her. She needs to do this so she can feel like she's making up to me for the shitty way she thinks she's treated me these past eight months. I let it go.

She dumps the dishes in the sink and starts the hot water after squirting in a ribbon of dishwashing liquid. She fills the basin and leaves it to soak, then opens the fridge, extracting a pie plate topped with a mountain of white.

"Dessert is French silk pie," she says, setting it down in front of me.

"Oh, yeah," I groan. "That's what I'm talkin' about." She hands me a knife and a pie wedge spatula, and I proceed to cut nearly a quarter of the pie for myself. Then I cut her a slice, slide it over to her, and dig in.

The chocolate and whipped cream mingle together on my tongue and even though I've eaten my fill at dinner, my mouth waters with the flavors. It's incredible, light and sweet. She's covered it with chocolate curls and drizzles of sauce. Before I know it, I'm eating the final bite of the giant piece. She watches me with a bemused grin, and I'm glad when I see her smile again.

"You like?" she asks.

"I like," I confirm.

She stands up and picks up the pie, leaning over to give me a light kiss flavored with chocolate. She carries the pie and the plates over to the sink, dropping the plates in. She puts the pie back in the fridge and I stand up and walk over to the sink to help her. Yeah, I know what I said but I can't just sit there like a jackass while she cleans. I help her with the dishes and we move into the family room.

"So when did you find the time to clean up the whole house?" she asks, settling herself on the sofa and scooting over so I'll sit next to her.

"Well, after I lost it this morning and then ran into Paul, who believe it or not helped to calm me down, I came home and I couldn't just sit. So I cleaned." I don't tell her that it started because I wanted to get her scent off of everything that belongs to me.

"But you went to work, right? I mean, you're all greasy."

I look down at my clothes, which do have some grease smears, but she reaches out and swipes a finger across the hollow at the base of my throat. She pulls her finger away and shows me the gritty smear of grease she's gotten off my neck.

The look in her eyes smolders as she holds the finger out for me to see, and I narrow my gaze as I feel my cock start to harden. It's just the look she gives me – that's all it takes. I shift on the couch until I'm pretty sure that she won't see any trace of a boner, and shake off the feeling I'm getting from her. I'm the Alpha, dammit. I'll decide when it's time to start that.

I grab her hand nonchalantly as if that whole sexy look didn't happen, and answer her question. "Yeah, but I didn't go in till this afternoon. I was pretty fucked up this morning."

The suggestive expression leaves her face and immediately her demeanor changes to one of regret. "I'm so sorry, baby," she whispers, and I can tell she's upset by how badly I took what I thought was her goodbye note. Okay, now it's time.

I lean in and push the thick curtain of hair away from her ear with the back of my hand. I put my lips right next to it, so she'll feel my warm breath fan over her neck as I say, "Well, I'm prepared to let you make it up to me, honey."

Her eyes were closed, but they snap open at my words and look at me, all wide and – is that fear I see? "What?" she gulps.

"You heard me," I continue in a low voice. "You can make it up to me."

Yep, it's fear. It's mixed with excitement, but it's definitely fear. Good. There ought to be a little more fear of me in her – well, maybe not fear exactly, more like respect. If she'd respected me back when we first got together, maybe she would have stayed with me, where she belongs.

There's a little quiver in her voice as she asks, "What would that entail?"

I look right into her wide brown eyes. "Come into my room and find out," I say quietly, my voice pitched low. I stand up and without looking back, amble over to my room. She gets right up and follows me without any further invitation. Before I cross the threshold though, I turn to her. "Coming in here means you're agreeing to whatever I lay down tonight, Bells. Okay?"

She nods, looking up at me from under her lashes. "Okay," she acquiesces.

Now, don't get me wrong. This is all for her. She _needs_ it and as her imprint, my ultimate goal in life is to give her what she needs. Yeah, I'll enjoy it – but probably not as much as I could, if I were that kind of guy. She won't feel right until she thinks she's made the last eight months up to me. So I have to let her. See? See how selfless I am?

Well, anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

I lead her into the bedroom by the hand and turn immediately, gripping her waist. I bend my neck so I can kiss her properly, catching her soft pink lips between mine and pressing into them roughly. She gives a tiny gasp of surprise; we've never once had anything remotely like rough sex, and though I have no intention of doing that now, the kiss is much rougher than I've ever been with her. I acknowledge the gasp with a little flick of my tongue across her bottom lip, soothing the rough with a little tender, and I can feel her relax.

She softens into me and I gently start pulling the hem of her top up. Underneath, her smooth, warm skin feels like velvet and I drag my fingers across it as I move the shirt higher and higher. I stop the kiss for a second as I pull her top off over her head and toss it behind me carelessly. Then I'm right back on her mouth, hungrily kissing her as her bare arms twine around my neck.

Ahhh, fuck, it feels so good to have her here. It's better than last night, because it feels permanent. Is it true? Is it real? I have to believe it is – finally she's back where she is supposed to be, safe and warm and vitally alive, her heart pounding with excitement as she eagerly buries her fists in my hair. It feels like she wants me as much as I want her, and it hasn't felt like that in a long time.

"Bella," I whisper. "You need to lie on the bed." My voice is gravelly and harsh, despite the soft tone, and she looks at me for a second with trepidation as I step back, untangling her arms from around my neck.

"You're not going to…?"

I interrupt her. "Just get on the bed," I say.

She opens her mouth to protest, but I stop her, putting my hand on the back of her neck and pulling her face close to mine. "You agreed," I growl, "to follow commands tonight. Now." I stop and narrow my eyes as I look into hers, wide and snapping with excitement. "Lie down on the bed."

Finally obedient, she backs toward the bed and sits, then lies down as she's been told.

"Good," I say quietly, slowly. "Now take off the rest of your clothes."

"Aren't you taking off your clothes?" she asks, breathless.

I stand cockily at the end of the bed, looking down at her with my arms folded over my chest. "Don't question me," I say without inflection. "Just do as I tell you."

She blinks, then swallows nervously without taking her eyes off mine. Her hands reach behind her to undo her bra, and she slides it off her arms. I hold her gaze as she moves to unbutton her jeans. She slips them off in one smooth move and she's lying there on my bed, naked and hungry and all mine.

Still I don't break eye contact. "Much better," I say, and her face colors with pleasure at my compliment. I move toward her slowly, stalking her like prey. I purposely don't look at her body, don't even waver in my long, fixed stare at her face. The Alpha starts to rear his triumphant head, and for once I let him come. I haven't ever let my wolf through during sex, though I've felt him trying nearly every time I'm getting busy, no matter who it's with. But this time it's strong, and I wonder if it's because I'm with the person I'm supposed to be with. It's Bella, it's always been Bella, and my wolf knows it.

My voice takes on the double timbre of the Alpha as I say, "Now. Let's get a few things straight." I savor the mixture of agitation and excitement that passes over her face as I stand there at the foot of the bed, looming over her fully clothed as she lies bare on the blanket before me. The position of power is almost intoxicating. But again, it's what she needs. This will help her realize that she's forgiven, but also that this behavior won't be tolerated by me again. "I only want to say this once, so listen carefully."

She's like a deer in the headlights as I narrow my eyes, watching her every breath. I allow my gaze to wander now as she stares at me. I look over her naked body and a small, arrogant grin lifts one corner of my mouth. "This is where you belong, Bella. Here, in front of me, offering yourself. Do you understand?"

She gulps and nods quickly. "Open your legs for me," I say, my voice quiet and rough. She moves them apart slightly and I growl deep in my chest. "Wider," I order, and she jumps to comply, moving them wide. I allow the cocky grin to return.

"That's better," I say, my voice soothing now. She still looks scared, but that's by design. She needs to realize that this is what's best for her. It might all be a mind game to me, but for her…it's redemption.

"Now take your right hand and feel yourself, Bella." I can see and smell her arousal from where I stand, and it's electric. I want her to know exactly how turned on she is. How I can make her physically ready for me in mere minutes, and how that will translate to emotional readiness too. Because it's true – we really do belong together. She knows it somewhere in her confused brain. I just have to pull it out and show her.

She doesn't like this test, I can tell by the look on her face. "You don't want to do that, do you?" I ask with no inflection. She shakes her head, an expression of relief overtaking her features. She thinks she's off the hook. But I continue. "You need to realize that it's not up to you, Bella. You're going to do it because I said to."

Her eyes change then, take on an almost irresistible look of submission. She nods nearly imperceptibly, averts her gaze, and moves her hand slowly to her center. Her first finger dips in, feeling the slippery wetness there. A gasp escapes her mouth and her eyes shoot back up to mine. I smile my cocksure grin, finally moving on to the bed. I straddle her on my knees and bend down, putting my lips to her ear. I whisper and draw the words out, hissing the sentences as my voice drips with arousal. "You see, baby? That's what I do to you. I haven't even touched you. I did it with words." I'm still not touching her, but I let my lips graze her ear before I kneel back up.

The double timbre of the Alpha emerges again. "Now, let's get those rules out of the way," I rumble. "First things first. You will never..." Here I pause and stare her down until she's literally a quivering mess. "..._ever_ leave me again, do you understand me?"

"Yes, Jake," she squeaks instantly.

I cock one eyebrow at her. "I mean that with every fiber of my being, Bella. Do _not_ do it again."

"I swear, Jacob. I promise," she breathes. Her face is a picture of acquiescence.

"Good," I say, my voice short and clipped. I continue, folding my arms over my chest again. Like I'm the king. Because I am. "You're free to talk to and see whoever you want, including members of the coven. I'm not your keeper. But remember, Bella, where your loyalties lie. Because if something happens to damage that loyalty, I guarantee - you won't forget_ this_ rule again for a long time." I can see in her expression that I'm implying something that scares her, and I like that she's getting a healthy respect for me and for this relationship. I can't have my imprint off gallivanting with the local vamp population. It's not appropriate, nor is it right. She needs to realize that, and to choose it herself knowing there will be consequences if she chooses badly. I don't know what I'd do about it frankly, but just the implied threat is all I need right now. If she crosses that bridge, I'll deal with it then.

I can feel that I'm getting aroused just giving her the rules. Truthfully, I've been working on a boner ever since were sitting out there in the kitchen, but now it's getting noticeable. That's okay, I want her to notice. I want her to see how hot she makes me and how turned on I'm getting just telling her how it's going to be from now on. When I get through with her, she won't remember that fuckin leech's name.

I get off the bed and continue talking to her in the Alpha voice, because I like what it's doing to her psyche. "I have something to tell you, Bella," I say as I reach behind my neck and pull my shirt off over my head, tossing it aside. "And this is probably the most important thing I'll ever tell you. I don't think I need to remind you to _listen close_." My hands move to my fly, where I unbutton and unzip, then quickly drop my jeans and boxers and step out of them. I stand there, naked as the day I was born, my cock proudly at attention. Her eyes are locked on the purple-headed hooligan as it pulses out my heartbeat. I kneel on the bed again, straddling her. I inch up her body on my knees so they're on either side of her ribcage. Her eyes continue to watch my dick throb. It's right over her face now; she can't miss it.

I let her stare at it as I look down at her. "You don't know this, baby, but something happened that day we went to the quarry. Something changed, and I think it's time you knew."

She drags her eyes away from my rock-hard member and flicks them up to me. "What happened?" she asks reverently.

I raise an eyebrow and look down at her over my crossed arms. I'm really starting to like this position - makes me feel powerful and I like powerful. "I imprinted on you, Bella."

First her eyebrows meet, then her eyes grow as she digests the meaning of my words. "_What_?" she breathes.

I ignore her question. "So you can see why these rules are important, and why you have to comply with them for me. You're my imprint, and I'm the Alpha. So there's not really much of a question of 'if.' It's been taken out of our hands. It's our destiny."

She makes the perfect response, the one I'd have written for her if that was my thing. "I'd choose you anyway, Jake. Imprint or no imprint. You're _my_ Alpha. Forever. I couldn't change it now if I had to."

Ah, yes. Now _that's_ what I want to hear. And that's enough for me, but I don't think it's enough for her. So I smirk at her and say, "Show me."

She looks confused for a second, but she recovers well and I see a look of determination cross her face. I hope that expression means she's determined to convince me, and sure enough, she lifts her head off the pillow and extends her wet little tongue, licking the drop of pre-cum off the end of my cock. I don't make a noise or a move, I just watch her like this is owed me, like it's my due. She's still looking up at my face, but then her eyes drop to my chest and I see them trace my body all the way to my crotch. She moans as she takes as much of me into her mouth as she can.

For those of you who haven't had the pleasure, let me enlighten you - this is bliss. Her mouth is warm and wet and silky, and she sucks and licks like an expert, coiling her tongue around me like a snake. Bella is good at this; I knew this from before, but I guess I'd been distracted by Shea's less-than-adept abilities. Despite my resolve not to show any emotion, my head falls back and I sigh as I push further into her mouth.

She knows what to do from performing countless numbers of blow jobs on me last summer. Her neck relaxes and I feel the head of my dick slide past that little ridge at the back of her mouth and skim down her throat. And then she swallows, working the end of me like a pro.

_Motherfucker._

I know she can't really breathe with my huge cock blocking her airway like that, so I reluctantly pull back and she takes a big breath and goes in again like she's diving for treasure. This time after she gets me lodged in her throat she starts this little moan, and the humming sensation vibrates around my sensitive head, driving me wild. She moves her head up and down, giving it all she's worth, trying to show me that I can trust her not to betray me again. The combination of her lying beneath me like this and her mouth on my cock takes its toll, and before I can even think, I know I'm just about to blow. So I reach down and take her pretty face in my hands.

"Not yet, baby," I say calmly, as if I'm depriving her of some awesome reward. "I know you want this, but it's not time yet." In reality, I need a second or I will definitely be ending the night early. This is something I want to draw out.

She lets out a little whimper as I reluctantly draw my shaft out of her warm, soft mouth. Yes, she wants to keep it up. I swear, I fall deeper in love with her with every passing second. Right now, though, I don't want to show anything that might be construed as weakness. So I just get back up off the bed, leaving her there. She makes a move to reach for me, but I stop her with a look.

"Stay on the bed, baby," I say, my tone harsh despite the endearment, "until I tell you otherwise."

She settles back to the mattress slowly and reluctantly, which I like. I like that she doesn't want to stop sucking me off – it's like a balm to my bruised ego. It's addictive. I want more. "Okay, so that's the reason for the first few rules," I say. "You're an imprint now, along with all that implies. You understand that?"

She continues to stare at me, and her expression is completely confused. She _doesn't_ know what it implies. How could she?

I know she doesn't know the ins and outs of imprinting. But after going through this living hell for eight solid months, I do. I'm well acquainted with the workings of the phenomenon. The imprints don't know what being an imprint means until we tell them. From the pack mind I know how it usually goes; the wolf sits down with his imprint and explains things to her in a calm, soothing manner. But I'm done with calm and soothing. I've done that, and I got shit on in return. Maybe it's because I'm Alpha. Yeah, Sam has an imprint, but he wasn't an Alpha when it happened. I mean, you can't be an Alpha if there's no pack. So maybe it's an Alpha compunction, this thing I'm about to do. All I know is as her imprint, I'm as sure about this as I'm sure the sky is blue. This is what she needs in order to function properly as my imprintee.

I continue to kneel naked over her, letting her watch my cock throb right before her eyes. I can smell that she's getting more turned on by the minute, and I like that too. But right now is about laying down the law, and I'm all about rules as I glare down at her from my lofty position. I put just a tiny bit of Alpha in my voice as I say, "I can see you don't really get it, so I'll tell you. Being an imprint is a gift, but it's also an obligation. It means that you're tied to me and it's irreversible. You need to know that the things you've been doing have been slowly killing me inside. It's complete torture. It's as if someone is slowly peeling my skin off my body – that's the only thing I can compare it to."

She looks away from my gaze, her eyes filling with tears. I know this hurts her, but she needs to know, so I don't soften it as I continue. "It's excruciating agony, Bella, and you've been responsible for it. I'm aware that you didn't know, so I don't hold it against you." Now I get close to her and, with my face just as menacing as I can make it, I growl softly, "But you know now. And that means you can't ever leave me, and you have to remember that I…literally…_can't…_do anything about how I feel." I stay where I am and stare down at her, watching the quiet tears course down her face. She looks more irresistible now than she ever has. She takes a deep breath and sobs out a sigh that ends in a little whimper.

I'm poised over her with one hand on each side of her head, holding myself up, but I shift all my weight to one arm and touch her face tenderly, wiping the tears away with my fingers. She turns her head and presses her lips to my hand like it's a sacred relic. "I'm so sorry, Jacob," she whispers.

I finally lie down next to her, putting my arms around her and pulling her toward me. She breathes a sigh of relief and melts into me, her arms still at her sides. "God, I love you so much, I can't stand it," she says, a catch in her voice. "Can you ever forgive me, Jake?"

"You're forgiven, baby. You're going to have to build up that trust again, but for now you're forgiven. Okay?"

She looks at me, her eyes liquid and her lips swollen and wet. She's ravishing. "If it takes the rest of my life, I promise, Jacob, I'll earn your trust again and I'll never, ever leave. Ever."

"Okay," I say simply, and my mouth closes over hers.

In the kiss I can feel her submission, her acquiescence. It's overwhelming. I wouldn't have ever expected Bella Swan to bend to anyone, last of all me – since she never showed any signs of it with her parasite.

I wonder how far she'll go?

This thought catches me by surprise, and I take a second to contemplate it. Do I want Bella to submit to me? Is that what this is about? But it isn't, because the Alpha drives me to do it, so it must serve some purpose. Is there a little-known Alpha drive that's making me do this, or is this all me?

Maybe it's a little of both. Maybe to soothe my ego, I need her to capitulate to me. Maybe it's also a pack thing, to keep her safe and to keep the pack in line. After all, Bella isn't known for making great decisions when it comes to her safety, and I can't have the pack see me being ordered around by my imprint. It could cause a breakdown of epic proportions.

The entire thought process flies through my mind in mere seconds, and I remember that I've never let the Alpha out to play in the bedroom – and maybe it's time. Carefully, I let through just a little of the wolf. Not enough to turn me, just enough to make her pay attention.

Like it's an instinct, I disentangle myself from her body and kneel back up in front of her. Something happens then, a feeling takes over, and I hear myself say to her, "I need for you to do what you're told, baby. Think you can do that for me?"

She nods, her eyes big and unblinking. "No matter what," I say, not an ounce of question in my voice. She nods again. "You trust me," I say without inflection. And once more, she nods.

Taking a breath, I reach down next to my knees and grab each of her hands in mine, then pull them over her head so her arms are stretched straight. I let go, and her hands stay where I've put them. Her breathing increases, and I see her chest rising and falling rapidly, her breasts pulled high with the position. She looks absolutely luscious. I can see she's nervous and I don't want that, so I softly tell her, "I would never, ever physically harm you, Bella, and I'm not here to cause pain. I just want you to know who's in charge here." She continues to stare at me warily, but she makes no gesture to leave or even to move. She stays still, her hands over her head obediently, waiting.

"That's my girl," I say approvingly, and she continues to lie there, ready. "Leave your hands there," I tell her. "Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," she whispers, and with that word the scent of her arousal increases exponentially. Hell yeah, baby, I think. A little grin crosses my face as I take my cock in my fist and begin stroking. I can't help it – I'm so turned on I need _something_.

I realize as I'm caressing myself that this, too, is a show of dominance. I'm right in front of her face, and I know she's wondering what's next. I mean, the logical conclusion is to let it go – but I wouldn't do that to her. It would be disrespectful, and I couldn't ever be that way with my Bella.

Still, it doesn't hurt her to _think_ that. And I can tell she likes the view. I'm pulling on that troublemaker that resides in my shorts like there's no tomorrow, and she watches every stroke. Her face tells me it's her new favorite show.

My head falls back in ecstasy, but I'm careful not to blow. I ease it down and just feel the sensation, her soft skin between my bare thighs, my hand pumping away, and her eyes on me the entire time. It's fuckin heaven, if you want to know the truth. But I'm getting close, and I don't want to finish for obvious reasons, so I slow it way, way down and look down at her again.

The look in her eyes almost makes me jizz right then, and I suck a big breath of air in through my teeth and still my hand on my cock. It's too much. I concentrate on holding it in, quelling the inevitable. And it works; I'm able to hold it off. But now it's time to involve her somehow. I look at her, my eyes narrowing. What to do that will be both pleasurable to her and will show her my dominance? Hmm.

One side of my mouth lifts in an arrogant grin as I think of something I think will work. I bend down to her, bringing my face close to hers. Her eyes are riveted to me. I kiss her roughly, and she eagerly returns it. Then I pull back. "You stay just like that, baby," I whisper harshly. "Keep those hands where they are." She nods, her breath quickening.

I lay next to her and continue to kiss her. She's sweet and delicious, letting me control the kiss, letting me control everything – and it's enough to make me high, it's intoxicating. I'm drunk with it. My hand slides down her velvety skin, taking a second to stop and give a nice tight squeeze to her breast on my way past. Only my hand doesn't want to continue down her belly, and I linger there a minute, rubbing across her nipple with my thumb. It bunches up, standing proud, and I can't resist a little pinch. She gasps with pleasure, sighing out a tiny moan, and I love that she still doesn't move her hands from where I put them.

Satisfied that she's going to toe the line, I move my hand down across her belly, feeling chills rise on her flesh. She shivers uncontrollably, and my hand stops at her hip, my fingers mere inches away from where she's dying for them to be. But she doesn't move, she doesn't even try to nudge her hips toward me. It's perfect. The wolf approves.

I know she's dying for it, but she waits because I told her to. So as a reward, I move my hand oh so slowly toward her hot, wet center.

When my middle finger finally smooths over her tiny pink kernel of nerves, she's wound as tight as a bowstring. She quivers as I move my fingers slowly over it, teasing it with little touches and swipes. I tap it for a second, because I know she's waiting for it, but then I take my hand away. She moans and ends it in a little whimper. She wants more, but still she doesn't move.

Okay, enough teasing. I go back to slowly touching her, circling her clit with little swirls of my fingers. I slip one in, then two, moving them in and out unhurriedly, watching her face the whole time. Her eyes are closed and her face is tense with ecstasy. I grin and whisper softly, "You tell me when you get close, baby."

Her eyes pop open and I can see that she knows what I'm thinking. Her breath is coming in ragged gasps now as I move those fingers in and out, keeping my thumb on her clit and drawing tiny circles with it the whole time. I hold her gaze, her eyes become hooded and misty, and her breath now sounds like tiny mewing. She holds her breath a second, then her lips quiver as she whispers, "I'm close, Jake."

Immediately, I pull my hand away and her eyes squeeze shut as she moans a little cry of protest. But she still doesn't move. _Goddamn_. How fucking sexy can she be? "Goood girl," I croon, drawing the words out. She opens her eyes and looks at me, begging me with her eyes only. That gives me an idea. "You wanna cum, baby?" I ask.

"Yes!" she gasps.

"Tell me."

"Oh, please, Jake," she whines. But I wait. The wolf wants to hear the words, and I'm helpless against him. I cock one eyebrow as I gaze at her, and she closes her eyes again and whispers urgently, "Please make me cum, Jacob. _Please!"_

"Bella, look at me," I murmur. She opens her eyes and her face is just unspeakably beautiful. I can't keep it from her any longer. The arrogant smile returns as I slowly push my fingers inside her and my thumb resumes its tender little swirls. "Make sure you tell me when you're close," I remind her. She doesn't respond at all, just lies there in quiet ecstasy, completely still, letting me play her like an instrument. Her eyes finally close and her breathing changes again, letting me know she's nearly there. This time when she opens her mouth to tell me, I thrust my fingers in a little more forcefully, feeling her clench around me. Her eyes stay closed as she quietly moans, "I'm close, Jacob."

I don't stop, don't change a single thing, just keep on going, watching her face. Her brows come together and her lips part with a gasp, and then suddenly she's moaning my name, her pleasure, her emotion. It's incredible, just fucking beautiful, and I watch as she quakes beneath my skilled hand.

Her nipples are like little cherries now and I take the closest one in my mouth, sucking greedily and rubbing my tongue across the sensitive little pearl. She gasps, her back arching as she presses herself into me. I can't defy the wolf as he drives me to take a tiny little bite. She sighs back to the bed, completely spent.

And now it's my turn, the wolf's turn, and I let him lead me. I'm above her instantaneously, my arms holding me poised over her still quivering body. Her hands are still stretched above her, and as I lower myself down on top of her warm body, my hands reach up to hold hers motionless over her head. I pull them a little, just to show her again who's in charge here, and sink my cock in her tight, dripping pussy all the way up to the hilt.

I can cum right here, right now, but that's not the wolf's plan. I begin to fuck her seriously, feeling her satiny walls clutch around me like she never wants me to leave. And that's it – she doesn't want me to leave any more than I want her to leave. We are finally on the same page. I hold her hands up and continue to thrust unhurriedly, kissing her with everything I have, until I feel the inevitable coming on. It's exquisite, that second before orgasm, and I kiss her deeply and let her arms go. They curl around my neck and her nails dig in and rake across the wide expanse of muscle that is my back. I can smell my own blood as I finish, cumming like a fire hose as the scratches heal over.

We lay there, panting, kissing, licking each other's neck. I can sense her submission still. She lets me lead, and I thrust my tongue into her mouth deeply, then pull away with tiny little kisses across her swollen lips. "You understand now?" I ask softly.

"Yes, Jake," she answers, her voice yielding.

"Good," I whisper, kissing her again. This thing we have, it's going to work this time. I can feel it in my bones.

In my mind, I can feel the domineering side of me, the Alpha side, getting bolder. Fuck _yeah_ she's surrendering. I'm the Alpha – _her_ Alpha – and that's as it should always be.

THE END


End file.
